VOF-CAL!F( 


^tllBRAJTl  -^v 


MATTHEW% 
JDRAMAT7C  MUSE  LU* 


PLAYS 

BY 

BJORNSTJERNE    BJORNSON 


PLAYS 


BY 


THE   GAUNTLET   (EN  HANSKE) 
BEYOND    OUR    POWER   (OVER   EVNE) 
THE   NEW   SYSTEM    (DET  NY  SYSTEM) 


TRANSLATED   FROM  THE  NORWEGIAN  WITH  AN  INTRODUCTION 

EDWIN  BJORKMAN 


NEW  YORK 
CHARLES    SCRIBNER'S    SONS 

1916 


•RANDEP MATTHEWS 
0RAMAT/C  MUSEUM  x 


COPYRIGHT,  1913,  BY 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


Published  April,  1913 


I     I 


ia 


CONTENTS 

PAQB 

INTRODUCTION 1 

A  CHRONOLOGICAL  LIST  OF  PLATS  BY  BJORNSTJERNE 

BJORNSON 17 

THE  GAUNTLET 19 

BEYOND  OUR  POWER 109 

THE  NEW  SYSTEM  .  169 


INTRODUCTION 


INTRODUCTION 

BJORNSTJERNE  BJORNSON  was  born  December  8,  1832,  in  a 
solitary  rectory,  lost  among  the  mountains  of  northern  Nor- 
way. His  father  was  then  the  spiritual  head  of  the  smallest 
parish  in  the  whole  country.  There  the  boy  spent  the  first 
years  of  his  life,  seeing  more  of  nature  than  of  man.  When 
he  was  six  the  family  removed  to  the  Romsdal  district,  on  the 
Atlantic  coast,  which  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful  and  also 
most  characteristic  parts  of  Norway.  In  1843  the  boy  was 
sent  to  school  in  the  little  fishing-town  of  Molde,  not  far 
from  his  parental  home,  and  at  eighteen  he  went  to  Chris- 
tiania  to  study  at  the  same  school  where  the  young  Ibsen 
was  then  preparing  himself  for  entrance  into  the  national 
university. 

He  was  only  twenty  when  he  wrote  his  first  play — historical, 
of  course,  with  a  theme  from  the  Sagas.  It  was  accepted 
by  the  Christiania  Theatre,  but  before  it  reached  a  perform- 
ance the  young  author  realised  its  shortcomings  and  with- 
drew it.  His  public  career  began  as  dramatic  critic  on  a 
daily  newspaper,  and  in  this  capacity  he  made  history  by 
leading  the  opposition  against  the  Danish  influence,  which 
had  until  then  prevailed  on  the  national  stage.  From  the 
very  first  he  spoke  with  the  assurance  and  authority  of  a  born 
chieftain,  and  however  frequently  challenged,  his  leadership 
was  never  surrendered  or  lost.  Toward  the  Norway  with 
which  the  world  is  familiar  to-day — a  nation  having  a  culture 
marvellously  disproportionate  to  its  physical  and  economical 
conditions — no  one  man  has  contributed  more  than  Bjb'rnson, 

3 


4  INTRODUCTION 

and  to  understand  his  spirit  is  to  understand  the  country 
itself. 

His  first  dramatic  work  of  lasting  value  was  produced  in 
1856,  after  a  visit  to  the  Swedish  city  of  Upsala,  where  stu- 
dents from  the  three  Scandinavian  countries  had  met  for  the 
promotion  of  mutual  sympathy.  It  was  a  brief  historic  play 
named  "Between  the  Battles,"  which,  because  of  its  novelty 
of  form,  exercised  an  unmistakable  influence  both  on  Ibsen 
and  Strindberg.  Its  terse  prose  was  that  of  the  old  Sagas. 
The  next  year  Bjornson  produced  and  published  his  first 
peasant  tale,  "Synnove  Solbakken"  (Synnb've  Sunnyside). 
Henrik  Jager,  the  literary  historian  of  Norway,  says  that  two 
things  assured  the  success  of  that  tale  and  those  that  followed : 
their  style,  at  once  picturesque  and  simple;  and  their  author's 
disct  very  that  mental  reserve  and  laconic  expression  are 
characteristic  traits  of  the  Norwegian  peasant. 

To  this  discovery  and  to  his  own  charming  application  of 
it,  Bjornson  was  led  by  a  double  study :  of  the  old  Sagas  and 
of  the  peasants  themselves.  Always  and  everywhere  he 
strove  to  recognise  the  unbroken  connection  between  the 
life  of  the  past  and  the  life  still  led  by  the  people  around 
him.  The  result  of  his  effort  was  that  he  forestalled  Maeter- 
linck in  effective  use  of  commonplace,  almost  meaningless 
words. 

In  1857  he  succeeded  Ibsen  as  leader  of  the  theatre  started 
at  Bergen  by  Ole  Bull,  and  during  the  eighteen  months  he 
remained  in  that  place  he  married  a  young  actress,  Caroline 
Reimers,  whose  devotion  and  loving  comprehension  of  his 
genius  served  him  as  a  valuable  support  to  the  very  end  of 
his  life.  On  the  whole,  the  fate  of  Bjornson  was  always 
fortunate,  and  not  the  least  so  in  regard  to  his  marriage.  It 
resulted  in  a  relationship  that  coloured  his  art,  and  made 
him  logically  what  he  later  became:  a  champion  of  the 


INTRODUCTION  5 

new  womanhood.  And  few  have  done  more  than  he  to 
assert  and  defend  the  essential  equality  of  the  two  sexes. 

After  his  return  to  Christiania  in  1859,  he  wrote  a  number 
of  charming  lyrics,  many  of  which  were  set  to  music  by  Half- 
dan  Kjerulf,  who  was  then  Norway's  greatest  composer.  He 
wrote  also  several  patriotic  songs,  and  one  of  these,  "Yea, 
We  Love  the  Land  that  Bore  Us,"  caught  the  popular  taste 
to  such  an  extent  that  it  rapidly  won  acceptance  as  the 
national  hymn. 

Bjornson  was  the  first  man  in  Norway  to  receive  an  annual 
pension  from  the  government.  This  happened  in  1863,  when 
he  was  only  thirty-one  years  old,  and  in  the  same  year  he  de- 
livered the  first  of  those  public  lectures  which  came  to  form 
such  an  important  part  of  his  activity,  bringing  him  into  a 
personal  contact  with  the  people  that  a  man  like  Ibsen  could 
never  attain.  As  a  speaker  he  exercised  a  magnetism  that  has 
rarely  been  equalled  either  in  his  own  country  or  outside  of  it. 
Yet  his  words  were  simple  enough,  though  at  times  he  could 
rise  to  the  highest  poetic  flights  even  when  speaking  im- 
promptu. But  what  really  secured  his  hold  on  his  listeners 
was  his  transparent  sincerity,  his  earnestness,  and  his  insist- 
ence on  telling  them  not  what  they  liked  to  hear,  but  what  he 
believed  to  be  right  and  true.  Add  to  this  that  he  possessed 
an  almost  uncanny  perception  of  what  was  going  on  in  the 
mind  of  the  people,  and  that  he  knew  well  how  to  reckon 
with  what  he  thus  perceived,  although  often  enough  his  task 
was  to  lead  his  countrymen  to  a  position  diametrically  op- 
posed to  the  one  previously  held  by  them. 

In  1862  Bjornson  wrote  his  first  really  significant  play,  the 
trilogy  "  Sigurd  the  Bad,"  which  two  years  later  was  followed 
by  another  fine,  although  not  epoch-making  piece  of  work, 
the  historical  drama  "  Mary  Stuart  in  Scotland."  When,  in 
1865,  he  broke  new  ground  at  last,  the  medium  he  used  for 


6  INTRODUCTION 

the  purpose  was  slight  enough:  a  two-act  play  named  "The 
Newly  Married  Couple."  But  it  was  a  prose  play  dealing 
with  the  everyday  life  of  his  own  time  and  place.  It  dis- 
played no  violent  passions,  and  was  in  no  way  sensational. 
All  it  did  was  to  portray  "the  soul  processes  taking  place 
within  a  young  woman  as  she  leaves  her  parents'  home  to 
follow  her  husband — that  is,  as  she  ceases  to  be  primarily  a 
daughter,  in  order  to  become  primarily  a  wife." 

In  spite  of  its  unmistakable  shortcomings,  the  play  exer- 
cised a  wide  influence,  and  not  the  least  so  on  Ibsen,  who  a 
few  years  later  produced  "The  League  of  Youth."  The 
relationship  between  Ibsen  and  Bjornson,  which  always 
remained  one  of  mutual  give  and  take  even  when  they 
were  emotionally  estranged,  has  often  been  represented  as 
one  of  a  smaller  mind  to  a  greater.  The  truth  is  that 
Bjornson  was  as  great  as  Ibsen,  but  in  a  different  way.  The 
latter  specialised  in  the  drama,  while  the  former  was  always 
tempted  to  embrace  the  entire  field  of  literary  endeavour; 
nay,  the  whole  vast  realm  of  human  life  in  all  its  varied 
manifestations. 

Ibsen  became  in  the  end  one  of  the  world's  great  dramatists, 
and  one  of  the  corner-stones  of  the  new  drama  which  is  only 
now  coming  into  existence.  If  we  restrict  the  comparison 
between  them  to  this  field  alone,  Bjornson  must  necessarily 
suffer,  but  even  then  a  closer  analysis  will  prove  him  to  have 
rendered  much  greater  service  than  is  generally  admitted. 
The  constant  exchange  of  impulses  and  ideas  between  him 
and  Ibsen  constitutes  one  of  the  most  interesting  phenomena 
recorded  in  literary  history,  and,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  in 
this  mutual  exchange  it  was  Bjornson  who  gave  the  most. 
As  a  rule  it  seems  as  if  the  seeds  of  the  forms  still  to  be  de- 
veloped sprang  into  being  within  his  richer  and  more  enthu- 
siastic mind,  to  be  later  nursed  into  perfection  within  the 


INTRODUCTION  7 

colder  but  more  persistent  mind  of  Ibsen.  The  evolution 
of  the  man  who  wrote  "Rosmersholm"  may  be  character-* 
ised  as  a  process  of  slow  and  painful  elimination,  while  the 
onward  march  of  Bjornson  was  one  of  triumphant  discovery. 
Three  times,  in  particular,  the  latter  seems  to  have  fur- 
nished the  "clue"  needed  by  Ibsen  in  his  tormenting  pur- 
suit of  self-knowledge.  This  Bjornson  did  through  two  of  the 
plays  already  mentioned,  "Between  the  Battles"  and  "The 
Newly  Married  Couple,"  and  through  a  third  one  that  fol- 
lowed in  1875,  "A  Business  Failure." 

Nor  does  this  reflected  importance  of  Bjornson,  derived 
from  his  influence  on  the  development  of  his  more  famous 
rival,  dispose  of  his  significance  in  the  annals  of  the  modern 
drama.  Some  of  his  plays  belong  to  the  greatest  produced 
during  the  last  century,  and  will  undoubtedly  live  for  a  long 
time  to  come.  They  are  less  universal  in  their  application 
than  those  of  Ibsen,  but  they  are  also  more  human,  better 
adapted  to  that  side  of  man  which  forbids  his  living  up  to  his 
highest  possibilities  at  each  single  moment  of  his  life.  I  do  not 
mean  to  say  that  Bjornson's  dramatic  art  administers  to  the 
weaknesses  of  man,  as  do  so  many  plays  of  ephemeral  attrac- 
tion; it  simply  reckons  with  them.  Somebody  said  once  that 
whenever  Bjornson  had  thundered  for  a  while,  he  had  to 
smile  a  little — and  his  smile  was  not  grim  like  that  of  Ibsen. 
In  other  words,  his  work  is  more  emotional  than  that  of 
Ibsen,  and  for  this  very  reason  it  should  exert  an  increasing 
appeal  on  the  generation  that  is  now  arriving  at  maturity. 

"The  Editor,"  a  drama  picturing  the  demoralising  effect 
exercised  by  an  influential  press  under  the  leadership  of  self- 
ish and  unscrupulous  men,  preceded  "A  Business  Failure," 
but  though  belonging  to  the  new  order,  it  was  still  too  un- 
certain in  form,  and  too  polemical  in  spirit,  to  achieve  the 
revolution  resulting  from  the  later  play.  "A  Business  Fail- 


8  INTRODUCTION 

ure"  was  not  only  the  first  wholly  successful  specimen  of  the 
modern  prose  play  produced  in  the  Scandinavian  North,  but 
it  served  also  to  introduce  money  and  business  into  Scandina- 
vian literature,  and  thence  into  the  literature  of  Germany.  In 
this  respect  it  went  beyond  what  had  already  been  achieved 
by  Augier  and  the  younger  Dumas  in'  France.  To  them  love 
was  always  the  supreme  theme;  to  Bjornson  it  was  only  one 
strand  out  of  many  that  are  woven  into  the  rope  of  life.  For 
this  very  reason,  perhaps,  "A  Business  Failure"  achieved  an 
additional  distinction,  which  by  many  critics  has  been  de- 
clared its  greatest:  namely  that  of  being  the  first  true  stage 
picture  of  a  Norwegian  home.  And  this  quality  of  domestic 
realism  goes  far  to  explain  why  it  became  at  once,  and  has 
always  remained,  a  great  favourite  in  Germany,  while  to  this 
day  it  has  failed  to  win  approval  in  France. 

In  1877  Bjornson  published  his  first  novel,  "Magnhild," 
which,  while  an  exquisite  piece  of  work,  was  rendered  signifi- 
cant chiefly  by  the  new  view  of  marriage  voiced  in  it.  If  not 
based  on  love,  Bjornson  dared  to  assert — and  the  assertion 
was  a  very  radical  one  in  those  days — marriage  was  as  im- 
moral as  any  illegitimate  relationship,  if  not  worse,  and  the 
breaking  of  it  must  be  held  not  only  permissible,  but  a  duty. 
In  other  ways,  too,  the  novel  was  a  forerunner  of  the  play, 
"The  Gauntlet,"  by  which,  a  few  years  later,  Bjornson  fur- 
nished one  of  the  main  impulses  for  the  Scandinavian  feminist 
movement. 

Of  "The  New  System,"  completed  in  1879,  Bjornson  said 
himself  that  its  interest  was  psychological  rather  than  dra- 
matic. For  this  very  reason,  however,  it  should  be  germane 
to  the  present  time.  And  it  derives  still  further  interest  from 
being  the  main  dramatic  expression  of  the  principle  which  had 
gradually  become  Bjornson's  final  formulation  of  man's  fore- 
most duty  to  himself,  to  others,  and  to  life  in  its  entirety. 


INTRODUCTION  9 

The  cry  uttered  by  Ibsen  in  "  Brand  "  as  the  utmost  wisdom 
to  be  distilled  out  of  life  was:  "Be  yourself!"  The  cry  of 
Bjb'rnson,  uttered  first  in  an  address  to  the  students  of  Chris- 
tiania  University,  and  later  made  the  ever-present  under- 
current in  "The  New  System,"  was  "Live  in  Truth!"  What 
he  meant  was  that  no  appearances  matter  in  the  end;  that 
nothing  really  counts  but  what  we  are;  and  that,  conse- 
quently, the  way  to  perfection  lies  through  a  frank  acknowl- 
edgment of  our  innermost  natures.  And  this  demand  for 
truthfulness  he  extended  to  the  state  as  well  as  to  the  indi- 
vidual. In  these  days,  when  the  best  men  all  over  the 
civilised  world  seem  agreed  that  the  most  effective  remedy 
for  social  evils  and  mistakes  lies  in  publicity,  "The  New 
System"  has  a  timeliness  almost  equalling  that  of  a  political 
platform. 

The  electoral  campaign  of  1879,  which  placed  the  Radical 
party,  known  as  the  "Left,"  in  control  of  the  government, 
marked  a  turning  point  in  the  country's  history  as  well  as 
one  of  the  first  definite  steps  toward  the  dissolution  of  the 
union  with  Sweden.  Bjb'rnson  was  the  soul  of  the  move- 
ment which  carried  that  campaign  to  victory,  thus  extending 
his  leadership  also  to  the  field  of  politics.  How  powerful  that 
leadership  was  may  be  judged  from  the  nickname  given  him 
of  "Norway's  uncrowned  king."  Both  in  Sweden  and 
among  his  opponents  in  Norway,  it  was  often  asserted  that 
he  used  his  position  in  a  manner  meant  to  enhance  his  own 
fame  and  power.  But  although,  like  all  strong  and  far- 
seeing  men,  he  was  arbitrary  in  his  self-assertion,  yet  his  mo- 
tives remained  always  pure  and  his  purposes  raised  far  above 
those  of  men  usually  classed  as  politicians.  And  in  all  he 
did  to  guide  his  country  to  self-consciousness  and  spiritual  as 
well  as  political  independence,  there  seems  to  have  been  little, 
if  anything,  of  hatred  toward  those  that  stood  in  the  way. 


10  INTRODUCTION 

It  was  for  those  that  made  life  small  and  mean  and  ugly 
that  his  actual  hatred  was  reserved,  and  it  never  was  more 
likely  to  break  into  open  flame  than  when  anybody  repeated 
the  time-honoured  belief  that  life  was  impelled  by  desires 
rather  than  by  duties.  The  presence  and  power  of  such 
desires,  especially  those  connected  with  man's  sexual  life,  he 
admitted  readily,  and  he  was  always  prepared  to  take  them 
into  practical  account.  But  that  any  desire  must  needs  be 
stronger  than  the  man  within  whom  it  makes  itself  felt,  he 
neither  could  nor  would  admit.  Out  of  this  feeling  on  his 
part  sprang  "The  Gauntlet"  first  of  all,  and  later  the  novel 
"The  House  of  the  Kurts. "  The  main  objective  of  his  attack 
was  the  so-called  double  standard  of  morality,  by  which  a  sep- 
arate code  of  sexual  ethics  was  provided  for  each  of  the  two 
sexes.  It  was  by  no  means  the  first  time  that  standard  had 
been  attacked,  but  until  then  its  enemies  had  almost  in  variably 
been  satisfied  to  demand  for  woman  the  liberties  accorded  to 
man  by  time-honoured  custom.  Bjornson  was  probably  the 
first  one  to  assert — and  undoubtedly  the  very  first  one  to  do 
so  in  a  work  of  high  artistic  quality — that  men  must  be  as 
chaste  as  women  if  they  are  to  retain  that  precious  stamp  of 
social  approval  known  as  "respectability."  Other  writers 
had  defended  the  woman  "with  a  past";  Bjornson  dared  to 
attack  the  man  with  a  similar  past — and  for  a  time,  at  least, 
he  did  so  with  undoubted  success.  Whether  his  position  will 
finally  be  assumed  by  the  race  in  this  matter  remains  yet 
to  be  seen,  but  as  long  as  the  race  continues  the  discussion 
of  that  matter,  with  all  its  ramifications  among  human  in- 
stitutions and  ideas,  Bjornson's  play  must  be  counted  a 
contribution  that  cannot  be  overlooked  by  any  seeker  after 
truth. 

Before  he  was  led  to  take  this  extreme  attitude  in  questions 
of  sexual  relationship,  his  spiritual  position  had  in  other  ways 


INTRODUCTION  11 

undergone  a  marked  and  far-reaching  change.  From  his 
parents  he  had  inherited  not  only  a  strong  religious  feeling, 
but  a  view  of  Christianity  that  rendered  it  a  satisfactory  out- 
let for  a  typical  Scandinavian  tendency,  designated  by  one  of 
the  younger  Swedish  writers  as  "  the  passion  for  the  infinite." 
During  the  seventies  Bjornson  drifted  more  and  more  away 
from  his  inherited  attitude,  led  principally  by  the  evolution- 
ary re-interpretations  of  scientific  truths.  In  1880-81  he 
made  a  lecture  trip  to  the  United  States,  which  seems  also  to 
have,  in  many  ways,  furthered  and  hastened  this  broadening 
of  his  spirit.  Shortly  after  his  return  he  published  a  story 
named  "Dust,"  in  which  his  new  attitude  of  mind  found  its 
first  artistic  expression.  It  was  his  "Ghosts";  but  the  in- 
heritance from  which  he  saw  men  suffering  was  spiritual 
rather  than  physical. 

This  change  within  him  found  its  clearest  and  yet  fairest 
utterance  in  the  first  part  of  "Beyond  Our  Power,"  published 
the  same  year  as  "The  Gauntlet."  In  "Dust"  he  had  taken 
issue  against  outgrown  religious  ideas.  In  the  play  he  turned 
once  for  all  against  man's  craving  to  escape  from  life's  realities 
by  building  up  around  himself  a  supernatural  sham-existence. 
He  had  come  to  feel  that  the  belief  in  miracles  lay  at  the 
bottom  of  the  Christian  faith,  its  most  typical  characteristic, 
and  he  had  also  come  to  feel  that  this  belief  implied  an  un- 
realisable  hope  of  a  special  setting  aside  of  universal  laws  for 
the  benefit  of  the  individual  who  did  not  dare  to  face  the 
consequences  of  his  own  acts. 

In  a  second  play,  named  also  "Beyond  Our  Power" — which 
is  a  sequel  to  the  earlier  one,  but  written  in  such  a  manner  that 
the  two  plays  remain  mutually  independent — there  appears 
a  character  named  Johan  Sverd,  and  a  blind  man  might  see 
that  he  is  none  but  Bjornson  himself.  In  his  mouth  Bjorn- 
son has  laid  a  passage  that  explains  not  only  what  moved 


12  INTRODUCTION 

him  to  write  the  two  parts  of  "Beyond  Our  Power,"  but 
also  the  spirit  that  informed  his  entire  subsequent  artistic 
activity. 

"But  I  tell  you,"  says  Jokan  Sverd,  "that  the  day  will  come 
when  mankind  must  discover  that  there  lies  more  greatness 
and  poetry  in  what  is  natural  and  possible — however  insignifi- 
cant it  may  frequently  appear — than  in  the  world's  whole 
store  of  supernaturalism,  from  the  first  sun-myth  down  to 
the  latest  sermon  preached  about  it." 

In  his  later  development,  Bjornson  was  almost  Greek  in  his 
aversion  to  what  pretended  to  exceed  human  measures  while 
still  having  its  roots  within  man  himself.  "Is  there  anything 
more  gruesome,"  cries  another  character  in  the  play  just 
mentioned,  "than  that  force  within  ourselves  which  goads 
us  on  to  what  our  whole  nature  resists?  And  can  happiness 
be  possible  on  this  earth  until  our  reason  becomes  so  com- 
pletely a  part  of  our  nature,  that  nothing  retains  the  power 
of  using  us  in  that  way?  " 

Bjornson  never  wrote  more  than  one  novel  of  the  length  to 
which  American  and  English  readers  have  been  accustomed. 
It  appeared  in  1884,  and  the  name  of  it,  literally  translated, 
is  "  The  Flags  Are  Flying."  In  English  it  is  generally 
known  as  "The  House  of  the  Kurts,"  The  problem  which 
its  author  set  for  himself  in  this  story  was  that  of  heredity 
vs.  education — and  it  was  strictly  in  keeping  with  his  life-long 
optimism  that  he  found  a  verdict  for  education,  by  which  he 
believed  it  possible  to  overcome  the  tendencies  implanted  in 
the  organism  at  birth.  At  the  same  time,  however,  Bjornson 
returned  in  this  book  once  more  to  the  question  of  sexual 
morality,  but  less  with  a  view  to  stating  what  it  ought  to 
imply,  than  with  a  hope  of  outlining  a  road  for  the  attain- 
ment of  it.  Here  as  elsewhere,  his  plea  was  for  knowledge 
as  the  one  firm  basis  on  which  life  may  be  safely  rested.  For 


INTRODUCTION  13 

the  innocence  that  is  based  on  ignorance  he  showed  not  only 
contempt  but  actual  hostility. 

His  greatest  novel  was  undoubtedly  "In  the  Ways  of  God," 
printed  in  1889.  There  science  and  religion,  knowledge  and 
faith,  the  natural  and  the  supernatural  stand  face  to  face  in 
the  persons  of  a  physician  and  a  clergyman.  The  entire 
book,  from  the  first  line  to  the  last,  is  a  sermon  against  intol- 
erance, but  clothed  in  exquisitely  artistic  form.  Life  comes 
first,  religion  and  everything  else  in  the  second  place,  is  its 
lesson.  God  is  still  supreme  in  this  new  world  of  Bjb'rnson's, 
but  it  is  a  God  of  law  and  evolution,  not  of  lawless  miracles. 
And  what  the  author  has  to  say  against  the  superstitions  and 
the  dogmas  commonly  masquerading  under  the  name  of  re- 
ligion may  as  well  be  said  against  the  dead  and  stiffened 
dogmas  of  a  science  believing  itself  to  have  said  the  final 
word  on  life  and  its  limitless  possibilities. 

The  second  part  of  "Beyond  Our  Power,"  published  in 
1895,  did  for  social  superstition  what  the  earlier  play  had  done 
for  that  element  in  religion  which  Bjb'rnson  had  come  to  re- 
gard as  lying  "beyond  the  limits  of  man."  It  is  one  of  the 
most  powerful  portrayals  of  the  modern  struggle  between 
capital  and  labour  which  western  literature  has  produced  so 
far.  At  the  same  time,  it  presents  a  rarely  beautiful  picture 
of  love  between  brother  and  sister. 

From  1898  to  1904  Bjb'rnson  produced  four  plays,  notable 
both  in  spirit  and  form.  All  but  one  of  them  dealt  with  the 
relationship  between  the  coming  and  the  going  generations, 
between  parents  and  children.  With  sympathy  for  both,  and 
understanding  of  the  new  as  well  as  the  old,  Bjb'rnson,  as  a 
rule,  took  sides  against  the  Nietzschean  tendencies  of  the 
younger  generations.  The  last  of  those  plays,  "Dayland," 
was  his  "Fathers  and  Sons,"  but  unlike  Turgeniev's  work,  it 
brings  the  two  warring  elements  to  a  mutual  understanding. 


14  INTRODUCTION 

based  on  the  fact  that  age,  if  willing  to  see,  may  recognise  its 
own  youth  in  the  children,  while  these,  as  they  grow  older, 
tend  to  revert  to  the  position  still  held  by  their  elders.  This 
play  was  dedicated  to  the  Swedish  Academy,  from  which 
Bjornson  in  1903  had  received  the  Nobel  prize  for  literature. 

During  his  later  years  much  of  his  time  was  devoted  to 
efforts  on  behalf  of  two  ideas  in  which  he  believed  the  future 
happiness  of  mankind  principally  involved.  Those  were  the 
ideas  of  universal  peace,  and  of  the  gradual  federation  of  re- 
lated races  which,  in  the  course  of  time,  had  become  broken 
up  into  hostile  nationalities.  Dealing  first  of  all  with  his 
own  race,  he  advocated  a  Pan-Germanic  ideal,  based  not  on 
conquest,  but  on  voluntary  combination.  At  the  same  time 
he  was  tireless  in  his  pleas  for  justice  to  oppressed  racial 
groups,  like  those  of  the  Poles  and  the  Finlanders,  the  Danes 
of  Schleswig-Holstein,  and  the  Austrian  Slovaks. 

In  1909,  within  less  than  a  year  of  his  death,  he  brought  out 
a  final  play,  "When  the  Young  Wine  Blossoms,"  which 
proved  an  astounding  revelation  of  powers  retained  to  the 
very  verge  of  the  grave.  In  this  last  work,  as  in  almost  all 
its  predecessors,  Bjornson  displayed  a  good  humour  that 
literally  sparkled.  Reformer  and  prophet  that  he  was,  he 
was  nevertheless  a  man  who  saw  more  of  life's  pleasant  than 
of  its  unpleasant  sides.  And  most  of  the  time  there  was  a 
merry  twinkle  in  his  eye  that  sometimes  expanded  into  an 
abandon  more  Gallic  than  Scandinavian.  But  his  laughter 
was  always  as  innocent  as  it  was  whole-hearted. 

As  the  presentiment  of  approaching  death  seized  him  at 
last,  he  made  a  final  endeavour  to  preserve  the  life  he  liked 
so  well.  Leaving  his  beloved  homestead,  Aulestad,  he  made 
his  way  to  Paris,  and  there  he  lingered,  now  hopeful  and  now 
resigned,  until  the  end  came  in  1910.  First  of  all,  and  from 
first  to  last,  he  was  a  great  personality — a  man  who  towered 


INTRODUCTION  15 

so  high  that  even  his  own  work  looks  small  in  comparison 
with  what  he  was.  Clean,  strong,  fiery,  gifted  with  a  wonder- 
ful magnetic  power,  he  seemed  throughout  his  long  life  a 
giant  among  ordinary  men.  Rarely,  if  ever,  has  a  private 
individual  to  such  an  extent  been  able  to  stamp  himself  on 
the  life  and  fate  of  a  nation.  Still  more  rarely  has  such  an 
individual  so  completely  refrained  from  using  his  exceptional 
position  for  the  promotion  of  his  private  interests.  And  it 
must  be  held  rarest  of  all  that  a  man  thus  favoured  preserved 
to  the  end  the  simple  virtues  that  are  generally  associated 
only  with  those  lowly  ones  whose  position  removes  them 
beyond  the  reach  of  temptation. 


A    CHRONOLOGICAL    LIST  OF 

PLAYS  BY  BJORNSTJERNE 

BJORNSON 

"Between  the  Battles"  ("Mellem  Slagene")  .  .  .  1856 

"Lame  Hulda"  ("Halte-Hulda") 1858 

"King  Sverre"  ("Kong  Sverre") 1861 

" Sigurd  the  Bad"  ("Sigurd  Slembe") 1862 

"Mary  Stuart  in  Scotland"  ("Maria  Stuart  i  Skot- 

land") 1864 

"  The  Newly  Married  Couple "  ("De  Nygifte")  .  .  1865 

"Sigurd  Jorsalfar" 1872 

"The  Editor"  ("Redaktoren") 1874 

" A  Business  Failure"  ("En  Fallit") 1875 

"The  King"  ("Kongen") 1877 

"Leonarda" 1879 

"The  New  System"  ("Det  Ny  System") 1879 

"The  Gauntlet"  ("En  Hanske") 1883 

"Beyond  Our  Power,"  I  ("Over  Evne") 1883 

"Love  and  Geography"  ("Geografi  og  Kjserlighed")  .  1885 

"Beyond  Our  Power,"  II 1895 

"Paul  Lange  and  Tora  Parsberg" 1898 

"Laboremus" 1901 

"At  Storhove"  ("Pa  Storhove") 1902 

"Dayland"  ("Daglannet") 1904 

"When  the  Young  Wine  Blossoms"  ("Nar  Det  Ny 

Vin  Blomstrer") 1909 


THE   GAUNTLET 

(EN  HANSKE) 
1883 


CHARACTERS 

Rus 

MRS.  Rus 

SVAVA,  their  daughter 

CHEISTENSEN 

MRS.  CHRISTENSEN 

ALF,  their  son 

DR.  NORDAN 

KARL  HOFF 

MARGIT,  maid  at  the  Riises' 

THOMAS,  the  man-servant  of  Dr.  Nordan 


THE   GAUNTLET 

(EN  HANSKE) 
ACT    I 

A  room  with  double  doors  in  the  middle  of  the  rear  wall.  The 
doors  are  open  and  show  a  park,  through  the  trees  of  which 
may  be  seen  glimpses  of  the  sea.  There  are  windows  on 
both  sides  of  the  doorway.  Both  side  walls  also  have  doors. 
Between  the  door  on  the  right  and  the  nearest  window 
toward  the  park  stands  a  piano.  Against  the  opposite  wall 
stands  a  cabinet.  On  either  side,  nearest  the  audience, 
there  is  a  sofa  with  a  small  table,  easy-chairs  and  other 
chairs  in  front  of  it. 

FIRST    SCENE 
MRS.  Rus.    DR.  NORDAN. 

MRS.  Rus  is  seated  on  the  left-hand  sofa.  DR.  NORDAN 
is  sitting  on  a  chair  right  between  the  tables.  His  head 
is  covered  with  a  straw  hat  which  he  has  pushed  far  back 
on  his  head.  A  large  handkerchief  lies  across  one  knee. 
He  is  leaning  forward  over  his  hands,  which  are  resting 
on  the  top  of  his  walking  stick. 

MRS.  Rus.  Why,  you  are  not  listening  to  me  at  all. 
NORDAN.  What  was  it  you  asked? 

MRS.  Rus.  About  the  suit  against  Mrs.  North — what  else 
could  it  have  been? 

21 


M  THE   GAUNTLET          ACT  i.    sc.  i 

NORDAN.  The  suit  against  Mrs.  North!  I  had  a  talk  with 
Christensen  a  few  moments  ago.  He  has  advanced  the  money 
and  will  try  to  get  the  banks  to  stop  the  suit.  But  this  I  have 
told  you  before.  What  more  do  you  want? 

MRS.  RIIS.  The  gossip,  my  dear  friend,  the  gossip. 

NORDAN.  Oh,  we  men  don't  tell  tales  on  each  other  as  a 
rule. — Isn't  it  about  time  to  let  him  know  about  it?  [Nodding 
toward  the  door  on  the  right]  He's  in  there  now,  isn't  he? 

MRS.  RIIS.  Let  us  wait. 

NORDAN.  For  Christensen  must  have  his  money  back,  of 
course.  I  have  promised  him  that. 

MRS.  RIIS.  Of  course.  I  hope  you  never  imagined  any- 
thing else? 

NORDAN.  [Rising]  Well,  I  am  going  away  for  a  little  rest, 
and  now  Christensen  will  have  to  look  after  that  matter. — I 
suppose  it  was  a  grand  affair  last  night? 

MRS.  RIIS.  No  pomp  of  any  kind. 

NORDAN.  No,  the  Christensens  never  indulge  in  ostenta- 
tion. But  numbers  made  up  for  it,  I  suppose. 

MRS.  RIIS.  I  have  never  seen  so  many  people  at  a  private 
affair. 

NORDAN.  Is  Svava  up? 

MRS.  RIIS.  She  is  out  for  a  bath. 

NORDAN.  Already?    Did  you  get  home  that  early? 

MRS.  RIIS.  Oh,  about  twelve,  I  think.  Svava  wanted  to 
get  home.  Mr.  Riis  stayed  much  longer,  I  believe. 

NORDAN.  Hm — the  card-tables! — She  was  radiant,  I  sup- 
pose? 

MRS.  RIIS.  Why  didn't  you  come? 

NORDAN.  I  never  attend  engagement  or  wedding  feasts. 
Never.  The  sacrificing  of  those  wreathed  and  veiled  victims 
—oh! 


ACT  i.     sc.  ii         THE   GAUNTLET  23 

MRS.  RIIS.  But,  dear  doctor,  don't  you  believe  with  all  of 
us,  that  this  will  turn  out  a  happy  marriage? 

NORDAN.  He  is  a  fine  fellow.  But  nevertheless — I  have 
been  fooled  so  often —  Uh,  huh! 

MRS.  RIIS.  But  she  was  happy.     And  so  she  is  to-day. 

NORDAN.  Well,  it's  too  bad  I  can't  see  her.  Good  morning, 
madam. 

MRS.  RIIS.  Good  morning,  my  dear  doctor.  So  you  are 
going  away  now? 

NORDAN.  I  have  to  have  a  breathing  spell. 

MRS.  RIIS.  Yes,  you  need  it.  Well,  good  luck  to  you — 
and  I  thank  you  with  all  my  heart! 

NORDAN.  And  I  thank  you,  Mrs.  Riis!  [As  he  walks  out] 
Too  bad  I  couldn't  say  good-bye  to  Svava! 


SECOND  SCENE 
MRS.  RIIS.    Later  RIIS. 

MRS.  RIIS  takes  a  foreign  periodical  from  the  table  at 
the  left  and  makes  herself  comfortable  on  the  sofa  in 
such  a  position  that  she  faces  the  park.  During  the 
next  two  scenes  she  reads  as  often  as  she  has  a  chance. 

RIIS.   [Comes  from  the  right;  he  is  in  his  shirt  sleeves  and 
busily  occupied  with  his  collar]  Good  morning!— Was  that 
Nordan  who  left? 
MRS.  RIIS.  Yes. 

RIIS  goes  toward  the  door  on  the  left,  turns  and  disappears 
through  the  door  on  the  right;  then  he  comes  in  again 
and  performs  the  same  manoeuvre;   all  the  time  he  is 
struggling  with  his  collar. 
MRS.  RIIS.  Is  there  anything  I  can  help  you  with? 


24  THE    GAUNTLET         ACT  i.    sc.  n 

Rus.  Thanks  just  the  same!  These  modern  shirts  are  a 
nuisance.  I  bought  a  few  in  Paris. 

MRS.  Rus.  I  think  you  brought  home  a  whole  dozen? 

Rus.  And  a  half!  [He  goes  into  the  room  on  the  right,  comes 
out  again,  makes  the  same  excursion  to  the  left  as  before,  accom- 
panied by  the  same  struggle  with  the  collar  as  before]  Otherwise 
I  am  speculating  on  something. 

MBS.  Rus.  It  must  be  some  very  intricate  question. 

Rus.  So  it  is. — So  it  is. — Indeed ! — Well,  if  this  collar  isn't — 
There!  At  last!  [He  disappears  and  returns  again,  but  now 
with  the  collar  in  his  hand]  I  am  thinking  of — thinking  of — 
of  what  our  dear  daughter  is  made  up. 

MRS.  Rus.  Of  what  she  is  made  up? 

Rus.  Yes — how  much  of  you,  and  how  much  of  me,  and 
so  on. — That  is,  what  she  has  from  your  family,  and  what 
from  mine,  and  so  on. — Svava  is  a  remarkable  girl. 

MRS.  Rus.  She  is,  indeed. 

Rus.  As  a  whole,  she  is  neither  you  nor  me — nor  the  two 
of  us  together. 

MRS.  Rus.  Svava  is  something  more. 

Rus.  And  something  considerably  more  at  that.  [He  dis- 
appears once  more,  whereupon  lie  reappears  with  his  coat  on 
and  engaged  in  brushing  it  off]  What  did  you  say? 

MRS.  Rus.  Nothing. — For  that  matter,  Svava  takes  more 
after  my  mother  than  after  anybody  else. 

Rus.  Well,  I  declare!  Svava,  with  her  quiet,  graceful 
ways — what  are  you  thinking  of? 

MRS.  Rus.  Svava  can  be  passionate,  too. 

Rus.  Svava  never  neglects  the  outward  forms  as  your 
mother  did. 

MRS.  Rus.  You  never  understood  my  mother.  But,  of 
course,  I  admit  that  they  differ  in  many  things  also. 


ACT  i.    sc.  n         THE    GAUNTLET  25 

RIIS.  Tremendously! — Can  you  see  now,  that  I  was  right 
when  I  began  to  talk  all  sorts  of  languages  to  her  while  she 
was  still  a  mere  slip  of  a  girl?  Do  you  see  now?  You  used 
to  object. 

MRS.  Rns.  I  was  against  having  her  bothered  with  it  all 
the  time — and  also  against  your  constant  jumping  from  one 
thing  to  another. 

Rns.  But  the  results,  my  dear — the  results? 

[Humming  to  himself. 

MRS.  Rns.  I  hope  you  don't  mean  to  say  that  it  is  the 
languages  that  have  made  her  what  she  is? 

Rns.  [.4s  he  disappears  again]  Not  the  languages,  but — 
[From  the  other  room]  The  languages  have  done  a  lot.  Did 
you  notice  her  last  night?  She  has  savoir  vivre,  hasn't  she? 

[Coming  out  again. 

MRS.  Rns.  That  isn't  what  one  cares  most  for  in  Svava. 

Rns.  Oh,  no. — On  board  the  steamer  somebody  asked  me 
if  I  were  related  to  the  Miss  Riis  who  had  started  the  kinder- 
garten movement  in  this  city.  I  replied  that  I  had  the 
honour  of  being  her  father.  Then  you  should  have  seen  the 
man.  Why,  it  actually  gave  me  a  lump  in  the  throat. 

MRS.  Rns.  Yes,  the  kindergartens  have  been  a  success 
from  the  very  first. 

Rns.  And  I  suppose  they  brought  about  her  engagement 
also — did  they? 

MRS.  Rns.  You  had  better  ask  her. 

Rns.  But  you  don't  notice  my  clothes  at  all. 

MRS.  RIIS.  Oh,  yes,  I  do. 

Rns.  And  not  so  much  as  a  teeny-weeny  gasp  of  admira- 
tion? At  such  a  general  effect — such  a  combination  of  colours 
— down  to  the  very  shoes — the  handkerchief  even?  What  do 
you  say? 

MRS.  Rns.  How  old  are  you,  dear? 


26  THE    GAUNTLET         ACT  i.     sc.  n 

Rus.  Oh,  keep  quiet!  But  for  that  matter — how  old  do 
you  think  I  am  taken  for? 

MRS.  Rus.  About  forty,  of  course. 

RIIS.  "Of  course," — how  genuine  that  sounds  from  your 
lips !  But  this  dress  is  a  sort  of  triumphal  overture,  composed 
at  Cologne  on  receipt  of  the  telegram  about  Svava's  engage- 
ment. Think  only:  at  Cologne,  a  mere  ten-hour  ride  from 
Paris.  But  I  couldn't  wait  ten  hours — to  such  an  extent  was 
my  sense  of  personal  elegance  increased  by  the  thought  of 
becoming  related  by  marriage  to  the  richest  family  in  the 
country. 

MRS.  Rus.  And  did  it  stop  at  that  one  suit? 

Rus.  What  a  question!  Wait  only  till  my  trunks  come 
out  of  the  custom-house. 

MRS.  Rus.  Yes,  then  we  are  in  for  it,  I  suppose. 

Rus.  Are  you  in  for  it?'  Why,  think  of  it — an  overjoyed 
papa  who,  at  the  crucial  moment,  happens  to  find  himself  at 
Paris 

MRS.  Rus.  And  what  did  you  think  then  of  the  party 
yesterday? 

Rus.  I  thought  it  a  fortunate  chance  that  the  steamer  was 
delayed  so  that  I  was  dropped  down,  as  if  by  magic,  right  in 
the  midst  of  a  fete  champetre.  And  one  given  in  honour  of 
the  dear  daughter,  at  that,  where,  of  course,  papa  found  him- 
self more  than  welcome! 

MRS.  Rus.  What  time  did  you  get  home  last  night? 

Rus.  Do  you  think  we  could  escape  playing  cards  even 
yesterday?  It  was  impossible  to  refuse,  for  I  was  asked  to 
sit  at  table  with  Abraham,  Isaac,  and  Jacob — that  is,  with 
our  host,  the  Prime  Minister,  and  old  man  Hoik.  It  was  an 
immense  honour  to  be  permitted  to  lose  one's  money  to  such 
bigwigs.  And  I  lose  always,  as  you  know. — I  came  home 
about  three,  I  should  say. — What  is  it  you  are  reading? 


ACT  i.    Bc.m        THE   GAUNTLET  27 

MRS.  Rus.  The  Fortnightly. 

Rus.  Has  there  been  anything  good  in  it  while  I  was  away? 

[He  begins  to  hum  a  melody. 

MRS.  Rus.  Ye-es. — Here  is  something  about  heredity  now, 
that  you  ought  to  read.  It  fits  in  with  what  we  started  to 
talk  of. 

Rus.  Do  you  know  that  melody?  [He  hurries  over  to  the 
piano}  It's  all  the  go  just  now.  I  heard  it  all  over  Germany. 
[Begins  to  play  and  sing,  but  breaks  off  abruptly]  Let  me  get 
the  music,  while  I  have  it  in  mind! 

He  goes  into  the  room  at  the  right  and  returns  with  a 
sheet  of  music;  sits  down  at  the  piano  again  and  begins 
to  sing  and  play  as  before. 


THIRD    SCENE 

MRS.  Rus.     Rus.     SVAVA  enters  through  the  door  on 
the  left. 

Rus.  [Looks  around,  stops,  and  jumps  up}  Good  morning, 
my  dear!  Good  morning!  I  have  hardly  had  a  chance  to 
speak  to  you  yet.  At  the  party  last  night  everybody  was 
taking  you  away  from  me. 

[He  kisses  her  and  leads  her  down  the  stage. 

SVAVA.  Well,  why  were  you  so  slow  in  coming  home? 

Rus.  Why  didn't  some  people  give  notice  when  they  in- 
tended to  become  engaged? 

SVAVA.  Because  those  people  didn't  know  anything  about 
it  until  it  had  already  happened.  Good  morning  again, 
mother  dear!  [She  kneels  down  beside  her  mother. 

MRS.  Rus.  Oh,  what  a  smell  of  out  of  doors  there  is  about 
you!  Have  you  been  walking  in  the  woods  after  your  bath? 

SVAVA.  [Rising  to  her  feet}  Yes,  and  just  as  I  was  coming 


28  THE    GAUNTLET        ACT  i.     sc.  ra 

home,  Alf  passed  by  and  waved  a  greeting  up  to  me.  He 
will  be  here  in  a  minute. 

Rus.  To  tell  the  truth — and  one  should  always  tell  the 
truth — I  had  quite  given  up  the  hope  of  seeing  our  old  maid 
so  happy. 

SVAVA.  Yes,  indeed!     I  had  quite  lost  hope  myself. 

RIIS.  Until  the  prince  arrived. 

SVAVA.  Until  the  prince  arrived — who  had  taken  his  time 
in  coming. 

Rus.  And  for  whom  you  had  been  waiting  for  ever  and  a 
day? 

SVAVA.  Not  at  all.     I  had  never  even  given  him  a  thought. 

Rus.  This  is  becoming  mysterious. 

SVAVA.  It  is  a  mystery  how  two  people  who  have  known 
each  other  since  childhood  without  ever  giving  a  thought  to 
each  other,  all  of  a  sudden — for  that's  the  way  it  happened. 
Beginning  with  a  certain  given  moment  he  became  in  my  eyes 
quite  a  different  man. 

Rus.  While  in  the  eyes  of  all  the  rest  he  remained  the  same 
as  before. 

SVAVA.  I  hope  so! 

RIIS.  At  least  he  has. become  a  little  less  solemn — in  my 
eyes. 

SVAVA.  Yes,  I  saw  you  two  laughing  together  last  night. 
What  was  it  about? 

Rus.  We  were  talking  of  the  best  manner  of  making  one's 
way  through  this  world  of  ours.  And  I  presented  him  with 
my  renowned  three  principles  of  life. 

MRS.  Rns  and  SVAVA.  Already! 

Rus.  They  made  quite  a  hit  with  him.  Do  you  recall 
them,  irreverent  child  that  you  are? 

SVAVA.  No.  1:  never  disgrace  yourself. 

Rus.  No.  2:  never  incommode  anybody  else. 


ACT  i.    BC.  m        THE   GAUNTLET  29 

SVAVA.  No.  3:  always  be  in  fashion. — They  are  not  very 
difficult  to  recall,  seeing  that  they  are  neither  deep  nor  dark. 

Rns.  But  all  the  harder  to  put  into  practice!  And  that's 
just  the  merit  of  all  such  principles. — Accept  my  compliments 
on  your  new  morning  dress.  Everything  considered,  it  is 
really  "sweet." 

SVAVA.  Everything  considered — that  means,  considering 
that  you  did  not  help  to  select  it. 

Rns.  Yes,  for  7  should  never  have  chosen  those  trimmings 
for  it — but  "everything  considered,"  it  might  be  worse.  And 
the  cut — hm — yes? — Well,  now  you  just  wait  till  my  trunks 
get  here. 

SVAVA.  Surprises? 

Rns.  Great  ones! — And  I  have  something  for  you  at  once. 

[Goes  out. 

SVAVA.  I  think  he  is  more  restless  than  ever,  mamma. 

MRS.  Rns.  It's  the  joy  of  it,  girl ! 

SVAVA.  And  yet  there  is  always  something  suppressed  about 
papa's  restlessness.  He  is —  [Rns  returns  from  the  right]  Do 
you  know  what  the  Prime  Minister  said  of  you  yesterday? 

Rns.  Oh,  well,  a  gentleman  of  that  kind  has  always  got  to 
say  something. 

SVAVA.  "Your  father,  Miss  Riis,  remains  always  our  man 
of  fashion  par  excellence." 

Rns.  Ah,  il  a  bien  dit  Son  Excellence!  No,  then  I  have 
something  better  to  tell.  You  are  getting  your  father 
knighted. 

SVAVA.  Am  I? 

Rns.  Yes,  who  else?  Of  course,  the  government  has  had 
some  little  use  for  me  now  and  then  in  connection  with 
various  commercial  treaties.  But  this  time,  as  related  by 
marriage  to  our  great  man,  I  become  a  knight  of  the  Order  of 
St.  Olav. 


30  THE    GAUNTLET        ACT  i.    sc.  in 

SVAVA.  Permit  me  to  congratulate  you! 

RIIS.  You  know:  when  it  rains  on  the  parson,  it  drips  on 
the  sexton. 

SVAVA.  You  are  most  uncommonly  modest  in  your  new 
grandeur. 

RIIS.  Yes, am  I  not?  And  now  I  am  to  appear  in  the  modest 
part  of  an  exhibitor  of  elegant  costumes,  or  rather  designs  for 
costumes — which  is  still  more  modest — to  be  used  in  the  new 
play  at  the  Theatre  Frangais. 

SVAVA.  Oh,  no,  papa!     Not  just  now! 

MRS.  Rus.  That  will  have  to  wait  till  the  afternoon. 

Rus.  Really,  one  might  think  I  was  the  only  lady  in  the 
family!  Well,  as  you  please — you  rule  the  world!  But 
then  I  have  another  proposition,  in  two  parts.  First:  that 
we  sit  down! 

SVAVA.  We  are  sitting  down !     [She  and  her  father  take  seats. 

Rus.  Then  you  tell  your  home-coming  papa  just  how  this 
whole  thing  happened.  All  that  thing  about  the  "mystery," 
you  know. 

SVAVA.  Oh,  that! — Well,  you  must  excuse  me,  but  it  cannot 
be  told. 

Rus.  Not  in  all  its  charming  details!  Heaven  defend! 
Nobody  would  be  such  a  barbarian  as  to  ask  for  a  thing  like 
that  during  the  first  honeymoon  of  the  engagement.  No,  I 
mean  only  what  was  the  actual  mobile  back  of  the  whole 
matter. 

SVAVA.  Oh,  I  see.  Well,  that  I  can  tell  you,  for  to  know 
it  is  merely  to  become  really  acquainted  with  Alf. 

Rus.  For  instance:  how  did  you  come  to  talk  with  him  at 
all? 

SVAVA.  Oh,  I  think  it  was  about  our  blessed  old  kinder- 
gartens  

RIIS.  Oh-h! — You  mean  your  blessed  old  kindergartens? 


ACT  i.    sc.  m       THE  GAUNTLET  31 

SVAVA.  When  there  are  more  than  two  hundred  of  us 
girls 

Rus.  Well,  let  it  go  at  that!     So  he  contributed? 

SVAVA.  He  contributed,  and  more  than  once 

Rus.  Oh-h! 

SVAVA.  And  once  we  fell  to  talking  about  luxury.  That  it 
was  better  to  use  money  in  such  ways  than  for  mere  luxuries. 

Rus.  Well,  what  is  to  be  called  "luxury"? 

SVAVA.  We  didn't  say  anything  about  that,  but  I  said  that 
I  thought  luxury  immoral. 

Rus.  Immo — ?     Luxury? 

SVAVA.  Yes,  I  know  that  is  not  your  opinion.  But  it  is 
mine. 

Rus.  Your  mother's,  you  mean,  and  your  grandmother's. 

SVAVA.  Of  course;  but  my  own  also — if  you  permit  me? 

Rus.  Oh,  the  Lord  preserve  us! 

SVAVA.  I  told  of  an  incident  which  mother  and  you  and  I 
witnessed  in  America — do  you  remember?  At  that  temper- 
ance meeting  where  we  saw  ladies  who  were  to  support  the 
cause  drive  up  in  their  carriages — ladies — well,  we  didn't  have 
any  exact  figures  as  to  their  fortunes,  but  as  they  appeared, 
with  their  carriages,  horses,  dresses,  jewelry — and  especially 
jewelry — they  must  have  been  worth — oh,  say — 

Rus.  Let  us  say  many,  many  thousand  dollars  apiece — 
that  would  be  true! 

SVAVA.  It  is  true.  And  in  its  way  such  a  thing  is  as  much 
of  an  excess  as  drinking. 

Rus.  Oh,  well 

SVAVA.  Yes,  shrug  your  shoulders!  But  Alf  didn't.  He 
told  me  what  he  had  seen — in  the  big  cities.  It  was  dreadful! 

Rus.  What  was  dreadful? 

SVAVA.  The  chasm  yawning  between  rich  and  poor — the 
boundless  and  reckless  display  of  luxury  on  one  side 


32  THE   GAUNTLET        ACT  i.    sc.  ra 

Rus.  Oh,  so! — I  thought —    Well,  goon! 

SVAVA.  He  didn't  play  the  indifferent  and  keep  on  polish- 
ing his  nails 

Rus.  I  beg  pardon ! 

SVAVA.  Please,  don't  stop! — No,  he  foretold  a  great  social 
revolution,  and  he  became  quite  excited  about  it — and  then 
it  came  out  how  he  thought  wealth  should  be  used. — It  was 
a  complete  surprise  to  me — and  much  of  it  was  new  to  me  in 
every  way.  You  should  have  seen  how  handsome  he  looked 
then! 

Rus.  Well — handsome? 

SVAVA.  Isn't  he  handsome?  That's  what  7  think,  at  least! 
And  mamma  also ? 

MRS.  Rus.  [Without  looking  up  from  her  periodical]  And 
mamma  also. 

Rus.  Mothers  always  fall  in  love  with  their  daughters' 
lovers.  But  becoming  mothers-in-law  generally  cures  them. 

SVAVA.  Is  that  your  experience? 

Rus.  That's  my  experience.  So  Alf  Christensen  has  grown 
handsome?  Well,  we'll  have  to  bear  with  it. 

SVAVA.  As  he  was  standing  before  me,  he  seemed  so  sure  of 
himself,  and  so  clear  in  his  mind,  and  so — so  chaste — and  that 
is  something  I  demand  also. 

RIIS.  What  do  you  mean  by  "chaste,"  my  girl? 

SVAVA.  Just  what's  in  the  word. 

Rus.  And  I  am  just  asking  what  you  put  into  that  word. 

SVAVA.  The  same  meaning  I  should  put  into  it  if  I  were 
speaking  of  myself. 

RIIS.  That  is,  you  put  the  same  meaning  into  it  whether 
it  be  applied  to  a  man  or  a  woman? 

SVAVA.  Of  course. 

Rus.  And  you  think  that  the  son  of  Christensen 

SVAVA.  [Rising]  Papa,  now  you  are  offending  me! 


ACTX.    sc.  m       THE  GAUNTLET  33 

RIIS.  Can  it  offend  you  that  he  is  his  father's  son? 

SVAVA.  In  this  respect  he  is  not.  It  is  no  longer  possible 
for  me  to  make  mistakes  in  such  matters. 

MRS.  RIIS.  I  have  just  been  reading  about  hereditary  ten- 
dencies— and  his  heritage  need  not  necessarily  have  come  from 
his  father. 

RIIS.  Oh,  well,  as  you  please!  But  I  am  a  little  fearful  on 
behalf  of  your  superterrestrial  theories.  I  don't  think  you 
can  get  very  far  with  them. 

SVAVA.  What  do  you  mean — ?  Mother,  what  does  he 
mean? 

MRS.  RIIS.  I  suppose  he  means  that  men  are  not  as  you     v 
want  them  to  be.     And  it  is  no  use  hoping  that  they  ever 
will  be. 

SVAVA.  No,  you  cannot  mean  that? 

RIIS.  But  why  so  violent  about  it?  Come  and  sit  down! 
And  besides,  how  can  you  know  anything  about  it? 

SVAVA.  Know? — What  do  you  mean? 

RIIS.  About  any  individual  case — 

SVAVA.  If  the  man  standing  before  me,  or  passing  me,  ia 
an  unclean,  repulsive  beast — or  a  man? 

RIIS.  Etc.,  etc.!  Well,  you  may  be  mistaken,  my  dear 
Svava. 

SVAVA.  No,  no  more  than  I  can  be  mistaken  about  you, 
papa,  when  you  begin  to  tease  me  again  with  those  dreadful 
principles  of  yours.  For  in  spite  of  them,  you  are  the  finest 
and  cleanest  man  I  know. 

MRS.  RIIS.  [Putting  away  the  periodical]  Are  you  going  to 
keep  that  morning  dress  on,  my  dear?  Don't  you  think  you 
had  better  change  before  Alf  comes? 

SVAVA.  No,  mamma,  you  can't  get  me  away  from  this! — • 
For  I  have  had  to  see  more  than  one  of  my  girl  friends  nestle 


34  THE    GAUNTLET        ACT  i.    sc.  m 

close  to  "the  prince  of  her  heart,"  as  the  old  ballad  says,  only 
to  wake  up  in  the  arms  of  a  beast. — I  want  none  of  that. 
And  I  am  not  going  to  make  the  same  mistake. 

MRS.  Rus.  There  is  no  reason,  dear,  to  take  it  so  to  heart. 
Alf  is  an  honest  young  man. 

SVAVA.  So  he  is.  But  I  have  had  to  witness  one  revolting 
experience  after  another.  And  now,  only  a  month  ago,  the 
case  of  Helga.  And  then  I  myself — I  can  tell  you  all  about 
it  now,  for  now  I  feel  happy  and  secure — and  now  I  can  tell 
you  of  the  time  I  once  had  to  go  through.  There  was  a  long 
time  when  I  did  not  dare  to  trust  my  own  judgment.  For  I 
came  near  letting  myself  be  deceived  also. 

BOTH  PARENTS.  [Rising]  You,  Svava? 

SVAVA.  I  was  very,  very  young  then.  Like  most  young 
girls,  I  was  looking  for  an  ideal,  and  I  found  it  in  a  brilliant 
young  man — what's  the  use  of  naming  him?  He  had — oh, 
his  principles  were  noble,  and  his  aims  of  the  highest — in  this 
respect  he  was  the  complete  opposite  of  papa.  It  would  not 
be  enough  to  say  that  I  loved  him !  I  worshipped  him.  But 
then — oh,  I  cannot  tell  you  what  I  discovered,  or  how  I  dis- 
covered it — but  that  was  the  time  when  all  of  you  feared 
that  I  had  become 

MRS.  Rus.  Consumptive?  Is  it  possible,  dear?  Was  it 
that  time? 

SVAVA.  Yes,  that  time —  Nobody  can  endure  such  de- 
ception— nobody  can  forgive  it! 

MRS.  Rns.  And  you  told  me  nothing? 

SVAVA.  One  who  has  not  fallen  into  the  same  mistake 
cannot  know  what  it  is  to  be  ashamed  of  oneself. — Well,  it  is 
all  over,  now.  But  one  thing  is  sure:  that  nobody  who  has 
had  a  first  experience  of  such  a  kind  will  ever  make  the  same 
mistake  again. 

Rus  has  in  the  meantime  left  the  room. 


ACT  i.    Bc.m        THE   GAUNTLET  35 

MRS.  Rus.  Perhaps  it  was  for  the  best. 

SVAVA.  I  am  sure  it  was —  Oh,  well,  it's  over  and  done 
with  now.  But  I  was  not  quite  done  with  it  until  I  found 
Alf. — What  became  of  papa? 

MRS.  Rus.  Of  your  father?     Why,  there  he  is  coming  now. 

Rus.  [Comes  from  the  right,  with  hat  on,  and  busily  pulling 
at  one  of  his  gloves]  Listen,  children!  I  simply  have  to  get 
my  trunks  out  of  the  custom-house.  I  am  now  going  down  to 
the  station  to  telegraph  about  it.  You  must  get  yourself 
ready,  too,  for  the  king  will  soon  be  coming  this  way,  as  you 
know — and  then! — Good-bye,  my  sweet  little  girl!  [Kissing 
her]  You  have  really  made  us  very,  very  happy.  Otherwise 
you  have  some  ideas  that — oh,  well!  [Going  toward  the  door] 
Good-bye! 

MRS.  Rus.  Good-bye! 

Rus.  [Pulling  off  his  glove  again]  Did  you  notice  the  melody 
I  was  playing  when  you  came  in?  [Sits  down  at  the  piano]  I 
heard  it  all  over  Germany.  [Plays  and  sings;  then  breaks  off 
suddenly]  But,  good  gracious,  here  is  the  music,  and  you  can 
sing  and  play  it  yourself.  [Goes  out  humming. 

SVAVA.  Isn't  he  funny!  There  is  really  something  innocent 
about  him.  Did  you  notice  him  last  night?  He  just  glit- 
tered "with  a  hundred  facets,"  as  they  say. 

MRS.  Rus.  Apparently  you  couldn't  see  yourself. 

SVAVA.  Oh— was  I  like  that? 

MRS.  Rus.  Your  father's  daughter — completely. 

SVAVA.  Yes,  mamma,  it's  no  use  denying  that  however 
great  our  happiness  be,  it  is  made  still  greater  by  other  peo- 
ple's goodwill.  This  morning,  as  I  walked  along,  I  was  re- 
calling all  that  had  given  me  pleasure  last  night,  and  I  found 
— oh,  I  can't  put  it  into  words.  [She  clings  closely  to  her  mother. 

MRS.  Rus.  My  happy  little  girl! — But  now  I  must  look 
after  the  house  a  little. 


36  THE   GAUNTLET        ACT  i.    sc.  iv 

SVAVA.  Do  you  want  me  to  help  you? 
MRS.  Rus.  By  no  means. 

[They  walk  together  toward  the  background. 
SVAVA.  Then  I'll  run  through  papa's  new  melody  a  couple 
of  times — and  soon  Alf  will  be  here. 

MRS.  Rus  goes  out  to  the  left.     SVAVA  sits  down  at  the 
piano. 

FOURTH    SCENE 

SVAVA.    ALF,  from  the  left. 

ALP.  [Comes  in  noiselessly  and  bends  down  over  SVAVA  so  that 
his  face  almost  touches  hers]  What  a  day  that  was — yesterday? 

SVAVA.  [Rising  quickly]  Alf! — But  I  didn't  hear  you  ring? 

ALF.  The  music — which  was  beautiful  also. 

SVAVA.  And  yesterday — how  can  I  thank  you? 

[They  move  down  the  stage  together. 

ALF.  I  don't  think  you  have  any  idea  of  what  a  hit  you 
made? 

SVAVA.  Some,  perhaps.  But  you  had  better  say  nothing 
about  it  as — it  isn't  held  proper  to  be  aware  of  it. 

ALF.  People  had  to  tell  me  about  it,  of  course,  and  my  father 
and  mother.  And  to-day  everybody  is  very  happy  at  home. 

SVAVA.  And  here,  too! — What  is  that  you  are  holding  in 
your  hand?  A  letter? 

ALF.  A  letter.  The  maid  who  opened  the  door  handed  it 
to  me.  Some  bright  wit  has  figured  out  that  I  should  prob- 
ably appear  here  in  the  course  of  the  day. 

SVAVA.  It  wasn't  very  hard  to  figure  out,  do  you  think? 

ALF.  Not  very.     It's  from  Edward  Hansen. 

SVAVA.  Oh,  you  can  take  a  short  cut  to  his  place  right 
through  our  park.  [Pointing  toward  the  right. 


ACT  i.    sc.  iv        THE    GAUNTLET  37 

ALF.  I  know.  He  says  it's  important,  with  "important" 
underlined 

SVAVA.  You  can  take  my  key — here  it  is.  [Gives  him  the  key. 

ALF.  Thank  you,  very  much! 

SVAVA.  Oh,  it  is  pure  selfishness.  I  shall  have  you  here 
again  the  sooner. 

ALF.  I'll  stay  here  until  dinner-time. 

SVAVA.  You'll  have  to  stay  here  longer  than  that,  I  tell 
you,  for  we  have  such  a  lot  of  things  to  talk  of.  About 
yesterday 

ALF.  Yes,  I  think  so,  too. 

SVAVA.  And  many  other  things  also. 

ALF.  I  have  a  very  important  problem  to  submit  to  you. 

SVAVA.  You  have? 

ALF.  Perhaps  you  can  solve  it  for  me  before  I  return? 

SVAVA.  Then  it  cannot  be  so  very  knotty. 

ALF.  Oh,  it  is.     But  you  have  inspirations  at  times. 

SVAVA.  Well,  what  is  it? 

ALF.  Why  couldn't  we  have  discovered  each  other  several 
years  ago? 

SVAVA.  We  were  not  yet  ready  for  each  other,  of  course. 

ALF.  How  can  you  tell? 

SVAVA.  From  the  fact  that  I  myself  was  not  the  same  then 
as  I  am  now. 

ALF.  But  there  is  a  natural  kinship  between  those  who  love 
each  other.  I  feel  it.  And  it  must  have  existed  then  as  well 
as  now. 

SVAVA.  Such  a  natural  kinship  does  not  assert  itself  while 
you  are  developing  along  different  lines. 

ALF.  And  so  we  have  been  doing — and  yet 

SVAVA.  And  yet  we  are  in  love  with  each  other.  Because 
it  does  not  matter  how  far  the  roads  diverge  when,  in  the  end, 
they  meet  again. 


38  THE   GAUNTLET        ACT  i.    sc.  iv 

ALF.  In  the  same  way  of  thinking,  you  mean? 

SVAVA.  In  such  a  communion  as  ours  is. 

ALF.  So  very  close  together? 

SVAVA.  So  very  close  together! 

ALF.  But  it  is  just  then — when  I  hold  you  in  my  arms  as 
now — that  I  ask  myself  over  and  over  again :  why  have  I  not 
done  this  before? 

SVAVA.  And  I  don't  give  a  thought  to  it — not  the  least 
thought.  This  is  the  safest  place  in  all  the  world:  that's 
what  I  think! 

ALF.  And  without  those  by-gone  years  it  might  not  have 
been  so. 

SVAVA.  What  do  you  mean? 

ALF.  I  mean — oh,  I  suppose,  at  bottom,  I  mean  the  same 
as  you:  that  I  have  not  always  been  what  I  am  now. — But  I 
have  to  hurry.  The  letter  says  I  must. 

[They  move  up  the  stage. 

SVAVA.  It  isn't  a  question  of  minutes,  is  it?  For  there  is 
something  I  want  to  tell  you  first. 

ALF.  What  is  it?  [Stands  still. 

SVAVA.  When  I  saw  you  among  all  the  others,  it  was  at 
first  as  if  I  didn't  know  you  at  all.  You  appeared  in  a  new 
aspect,  as  if  you  had  taken  on  something  from  the  others — in 
fact,  you  were  different. 

ALF.  Of  course!  One  always  is  among  strangers.  When 
you  moved  among  the  other  women,  it  was  as  if  I  had  never 
really  noticed  you  before.  And,  you  know,  there  are  certain 
measures  that  cannot  be  taken  except  when  others  are  pres- 
ent. Only  then  did  I  learn  whether  you  were  tall  or  short. 
Only  then  did  I  become  aware  of  a  way  you  have  of  bending 
to  one  side — oh,  just  a  wee  bit — as  you  greet  somebody.  And 
your  colour — I  had  seen  nothing  before 


ACT  i.    sc.  iv        THE   GAUNTLET  39 

SVAVA.  Now  will  you  stop  and  give  me  a  chance? 

ALF.  I  will  not — oh,  here  we  are  again,  and  I  simply  must 
leave!  [They  go  up  the  stage  again. 

SVAVA.  Only  a  word.  You  didn't  let  me  finish.  When  I 
saw  you  standing  among  the  other  men,  it  was  at  first  as  if  I 
had  not  recognised  you.  But  just  then  your  glance  caught 
mine,  and  you  nodded  to  me.  I  don't  know  what  kind  of 
transformation  took  place  in  you  or  in  myself,  but  I  blushed 
until  my  face  burned.  And  it  was  some  time  before  I  dared 
to  look  at  you  again. 

ALF.  And  do  you  know  what  happened  to  me?  Every 
time  somebody  was  going  to  dance  with  you,  I  begrudged 
him  the  chance  of  doing  so.  I  didn't  seem  able  to  bear  it. 
By  heavens,  I  can't  bear  that  anybody  else  so  much  as  touches 
you!  [They  embrace}  And  yet  I  have  not  mentioned  the  best 
of  all! 

SVAVA.  And  what  is  that? 

ALF.  It  is  this — that  when  I  see  you  among  others — when  I 
catch  a  glimpse  of  your  arm,  for  instance — then  I  say  to  my- 
self: that  arm  has  been  lying  around  my  neck,  and  there  is 
nobody  else  in  the  whole  world  who  can"  say  the  same  thing. 
She  belongs  to  me,  that  girl  over  there,  and  to  nobody,  nobody, 
nobody  else! — That,  you  see,  is  the  best  of  all! — But  now  we 
are  back  again  in  the  same  spot — it  is  as  if  we  were  bewitched. 
— Now  I  must  go!  [Goes  up  the  stage}  Good-bye!  [Leaves  SVAVA 
only  to  seize  Jwld  of  her  again  the  next  moment}  Why  couldn't 
I  have  had  all  this  happiness  long  ago? — Good-bye! 

SVAVA.  I  think  I'll  go  with  you. 

ALF.  Yes,  do! 

SVAVA.  Oh,  no,  I  remember  now.  I  must  practise  that 
new  song  before  papa  returns.  For  if  I  don't  do  it  now,  I 
am  sure  you  will  give  me  no  chance  later. 

[A  ring  at  the  door-bell  is  heard. 


40  THE   GAUNTLET         ACT  i.    sc.  v 

ALF.  Somebody  is  coming!     For  heaven's  sake,  let  me  get 
out  first! 

He  runs  out  to  the  right.  SVAVA  stands  looking  after 
him  and  waving  her  handkerchief.  She  is  about  to 
return  to  the  piano,  when  MAKGIT  appears. 


FIFTH    SCENE 

SVAVA.    MARGIT.    Later  HOFF. 

MARGIT.  There  is  a  gentleman  here  who  wants  to 

SVAVA.  A  gentleman?     Don't  you  know  him? 

MARGIT.  No. 

SVAVA.  What  sort  of  a  gentleman? 

MARGIT.  Oh,  sort  of — a  little  bit 

SVAVA.  Suspicious  looking? 

MARGIT.  Oh,  no — he's  a  very  nice  man. 

SVAVA.  Tell  him  that  my  father  is  not  at  home.  He  has 
gone  down  to  the  station. 

MARGIT.  I  told  him  so.  But  it's  you,  Miss  Svava,  he 
wants  to  speak  to. 

SVAVA.  Ask  my  mother  to  come  in — oh,  well,  what's  the 
need  of  that? — Let  him  come  in. 

[MARGIT  goes  out;  HOFF  enters. 

HOFF.  It's  Miss  Riis  I  am  having  the  honour  to —  Yes,  I 
see  it  is.  'My  name  is — Hoff — Karl  Hoff.  I  travel  in  iron. 

SVAVA.  But  what  have  I  to  do  with  that? 

HOFF.  Oh,  yes — for  had  I  been  an  ordinary,  home-staying 
fellow,  there  might  have  been  a  lot — that  never  happened. 

SVAVA.  What  might  not  have  happened? 

HOFF.  [Pulls  out  a  large  pocket-book  and  takes  from  it  a  tiny 
letter]  Will  you  please — would  you  read  this — or  perhaps  you 
would  rather  not? 


ACT  i.    sc.  v         THE   GAUNTLET  41 

SVAVA.  Well,  how  can  I  tell? 

HOFF.  No,  that's  so — you  must  first — if  I  may? 

SVAVA.  [Reading]  "To-night  between  ten  and  eleven;  that 
is  to  say,  if  the  old  fool  doesn't  come  home  before.  Oh,  I 
love  you,  I  love  you  so  much —  Put  a  light  in  the  hall 
window." 

HOFF.  "The  old  fool"— that's  me. 

SVAVA.  But  I  don't  see 

HOFF.  Here's  another. 

SVAVA.  "I  am  suffering  from  bad  conscience.  Your  cough 
scares  me.  And  now  when  you  are  expecting — "  But  what 
in  the  world  have  I  to  do  with  all  this? 

HOFF.  [After  some  hesitation]  Well,  what  do  you  think? 

SVAVA.  Is  there  anybody  who  needs  my  help? 

HOFF.  No,  poor  thing,  she  needs  no  more  helping.  She's 
dead. 

SVAVA.  Dead?    She  was  your  wife? 

HOFF.  That's  it.  She  was  my  wife. — I  found  these  and 
some  other  things  in — in  a  box.  The  papers  were  furthest 
down — there's  more  of  them — and  then  some  cotton  on  top 
of  them.  Then  there  were  ear-rings  and  such  things  which 
she  had  got  from  her  mother.  And  then — these  bracelets. 
I  guess  they  cost  too  much  to  come  from  her  mother. 

SVAVA.  She  must  have  died  suddenly  then,  as  she  hadn't 
time 

HOFF.  Oh,  I  don't  know.  Consumptives  never  think 
they're  going  to  die. — She  was  such  a  weak,  delicate  thing. — 
Do  you  mind  if  I  sit  down? 

SVAVA.  Not  at  all!    Are  there  any  children? 

HOFF.  [After  some  hesitation]  I  don't  think  so. 

SVAVA.  You  don't  think — ?  The  reason  I  ask  was  that  I 
thought  our  kindergarten  society —  Frankly,  this  is  painful 
to  me! 


4fc  THE   GAUNTLET         ACT  i.    sc.  v 

HOFF.  I  thought  it  would  be — yes,  I  thought  it  would — 
and  really  I  don't  know  if —  Oh,  you  can't  understand  all 
this,  can  you? 

SVAVA.  No,  I  cannot. 

HOFF.  No,  of  course,  you  can't —  I  have  heard  so  many 
fine  things  said  of  you  these  last  years — and  my  wife  used  to 
speak  that  way  of  you,  too. 

SVAVA.  Did  she  know  me? 

HOFF.  Maren  Tang — she  that  was  lady  companion  to 

SVAVA.  to  Mrs.  Christensen,  who  is  to  be  my  mother- 
in-law?  Oh,  it  was  she?  That  very  quiet,  refined  woman — 
Don't  you  think  you  are  mistaken?  A  couple  of  notes  with- 
out any  name — without  a  date  even?  Don't  you ? 

HOFF.  Could  you  recognise  the  handwriting? 

SVAVA.  I? — No. — And  it  looked  as  if  it  had  been  disguised. 

HOFF.  Well — but  not  so  very  much. 

SVAVA.  But  you  must  have  had  some  definite  purpose  in 
calling  on  me? 

HOFF.  So  I  had. — But  I  guess  I  won't  bother  about  it. 
You  don't  understand  this  kind  of  thing,  I  can  see. — Maybe 
you  just  think  me  a  little  off? — And  maybe  we  might  let  it 
go  at  that? 

SVAVA.  But  there  was  something  you  wanted? 

HOFF.  Yes,  that's  so.     You  see,  these  kindergartens 

SVAVA.  So  it  was  the  kindergartens  after  all? 

HOFF.  No,  that  wasn't  it.  But  on  account  of  them  I  kind 
of  thought  a  lot  of  you,  you  see.  And  if  you  don't  mind  my 
saying  it:  young  ladies  of  the  better  class  who  do  something 
useful — well,  I  had  never  heard  of  it  before.  Never  before. — 
I  am  nothing  but  a  poor  fellow  who's  failed  in  his  own  busi- 
ness and  now  has  to  travel  for  others — not  much  good  for 
anything,  I  dare  say — and  maybe  I  deserved  what  I  got. — 
But  just  the  same  I  wanted  to  see  you  kept  out  of  it.  I  kind 


ACT  i.    sc.  vi        THE   GAUNTLET  43 

of  thought  it  was  my  duty — nothing  less  than  my  duty — 
But  now,  when  I  see  you  sitting  like  that  before  me — then  it 
makes  me  unhappy  all  through.  And  so  I  'don't  want  to  say 
anything  to  you  at  all.  [Rising]  Nothing  at  all ! 

SVAVA.  This  is  something  I  cannot  understand. 

HOFF.  Now,  don't  you  pay  any  attention  to  me  at  all. 
All  I  ask  you  is  to  excuse  me — excuse  me  very  much! — No, 
please  don't  give  yourself  any  trouble!  Not  at  all!  It's  just 
as  if  I  hadn't  been  here.  That's  all. 

He  goes  toward  the  door,  where  he  meets  ALT;  seeing  that 
SVAVA  is  watching  them,  he  hurries  out. 


SIXTH    SCENE 

SVAVA.    ALF.    Later  Rus. 

SVAVA.  [As  she  watches  the  tivo  men  meeting,  she  gives  vent  to 
a  subdued  cry.  Then  she  goes  quickly  toward  ALF.  But  when 
she  stands  face  to  face  with  him,  she  seems  to  be  seized  with  terror. 
He  approaches  her  in  order  to  support  her,  but  she  cries  out] 
Don't  touch  me!  [She  tries  to  reach  the  door  on  the  left,  but 
seems  for  a  moment  unable  to  find  it.  Then  she  hurries  out  and 
is  heard  locking  the  door  from  within.  Shortly  afterward  the 
sound  of  violent  crying  is  heard,  but  rendered  faint  by  distance. 
It  lasts  only  a  moment.  Then  somebody  on  the  outside  is  heard 
singing  the  melody  already  familiar  to  the  audience,  and  a  few 
moments  later  Rus  appears  on  the  stage] 

Curtain. 


ACT   II 

The  same  room  as  in  the  previous  ad. 

FIRST    SCENE 
SVAVA.    MRS.  Rus. 

SVAVA  is  reclining  on  the  right-hand  sofa  so  that  she  rests 
on  one  arm  and  has  her  face  turned  toward  the  park. 
MRS.  Rns  is  sitting  beside  the  sofa,  facing  her  daughter. 

MRS.  Rns.  These  sudden  decisions,  Svava,  are  in  reality  no 
decisions  at  all.  For  there  is  always  so  much  that  comes 
after. — Take  time  to  think!  I  believe  him  to  be  a  pretty  fine 
man.  Give  him  time  to  show  it.  Don't  break  off  at  once. 

SVAVA.  Why  are  you  constantly  telling  me  this? 

MRS.  Rns.  But,  dear  girl,  I  have  really  had  no  chance  to 
tell  you  anything  at  all  until  now. 

SVAVA.  But  all  your  remarks  have  been  set  to  the  same  tune. 

MRS.  Rns.  And  what  tune  would  you  prefer? 

SVAVA.  The  old  one — your  own — which  is  quite  different. 

MRS.  Rns.  It  is  one  thing  to  teach  one's  child  how  to 
choose  among  life's  offerings 

SVAVA.  And  another  to  stick  to  one's  own  teachings? 

MRS.  Rns.  Another  thing  it  is  to  live.  Then  it  is  some- 
times necessary  to  make  allowances,  especially  when  two  are 
to  live  together. 

SVAVA.  In  minor  matters  this  is  all  right. 

MRS.  Rns.  Only  in  minor  matters ? 

SVAVA.  Yes,  in  regard  to  peculiarities  and  such  things  that 
44 


ACTH.    sc.  i         THE   GAUNTLET  45 

are  mere  accidentals.  But  not  when  it  is  a  question  of  essen- 
tial development. 

MRS.  Rns.  Then,  too. 

SVAVA.  Then,  too?  But  we  marry  only  to  develop  our- 
selves. Why  should  we  otherwise  marry  at  all? 

MRS.  Rns.  You'll  find  out. 

SVAVA.  No,  I  won't.     For  I  am  not  going  to  marry. 

MRS.  Rns.  You  should  have  said  that  before.  Now  it  is 
too  late. 

SVAVA.  [Half  rising  from  the  sofa]  Too  late?  Had  I  been 
married  twenty  years,  I  should  be  doing  exactly  the  same  thing. 

[Lies  down  again. 

MRS.  Rns.  Oh,  Lord  preserve  us! — You  don't  know — no, 
you  don't  know  at  all  into  what  kind  of  net  you  have  stum- 
bled. But  you'll  discover  it  the  moment  you  try  in  earnest 
to  tear  yourself  loose. — Or  do  you  really  want  your  father  to 
throw  away  everything  we  have  built  up  here?  Do  you  want 
us  to  start  all  over  again  in  a  strange  country?  For  he  has 
repeatedly  declared  during  the  last  few  days,  that  the  dis- 
grace of  a  breach  is  something  which  he  cannot  face.  He 
means  to  leave,  and  if  he  does,  I  shall  have  to  go  with  him. — 
Yes,  now  you  are  twisting  and  turning  in  the  net!  And  think 
of  the  others !  It  is  a  little  dangerous  to  be  made  so  much  of 
as  you  were  at  the  engagement  party.  It  is  as  if  you  had  been 
lifted  up  on  a  platform  supported  by  all  the  others.  Take 
care  lest  they  push  you  down  again!  And  you  may  be  sure 
they  will,  if  you  violate  their  ideas  of  propriety. 

SVAVA.  And  is  this  their  idea  of  propriety? 

MRS.  Rns.  Not  exactly.  But  that  no  scandal  be  caused 
is  inevitably  one  of  those  ideas,  and  perhaps  the  first  of  all. — 
Nobody  takes  kindly  to  a  disgraceful  exposure.  Particularly 
those  that  are  most  powerful.  And  least  of  all  do  people  like 
to  see  their  children  disgraced. 


46  THE    GAUNTLET        ACT  n.     sc.  n 

SVAVA.  [Half  rising]  But,  good  Lord,  am  7  disgracing  him  ? 

MRS.  RIIS.  No,  I  suppose  he  is  doing  it  himself — 

SVAVA.  Well!  [Drops  back  again. 

MRS.  Rns.  But  you  will  never  make  them  see  it  that  way. 
— No,  you  won't. — As  long  as  only  the  family  and  a  few  close 
friends  are  whispering  about  what  has  happened,  they  don't 
regard  it  as  any  disgrace  at  all.  For  the  same  thing  is  happen- 
ing in  too  many  other  places.  It  is  only  when  it  becomes 
known  to  all  the  world  that  they  look  upon  it  as  a  disgrace. 
And  if  there  should  be  a  breach,  and  the  cause  of  it  become 
known — that  the  eldest  son  of  the  Christensens  had  been 
ignominiously  jilted  on  account  of  his  past — then  they  would 
regard  this  as  the  worst  scandal  that  could  ever  befall  them.— 
And  we  should  have  to  suffer  for  it.  We,  and  every  one  de- 
pendent on  us.  And  you  know,  they  are  not  a  few.  You 
have  taken  them  under  your  care,  especially  the  children. 
But  then  you  would  have  to  let  all  those  go  that  you  have 
helped.  For  you  would  have  to  follow  us.  And  I  am  sure 
that  your  father  is  in  earnest  about  leaving. 

SVAVA.  O-oh! 

MRS.  Rns.  I  wish  I  could  tell  you  why  I  am  so  sure  of  it. 
But  I  cannot — not  just  now,  at  least —  No,  you  mustn't  ask 
me  to  do  so —  There  is  your  father  now.  Take  time  to 
think,  Svava.  No  breach!  No  scandal! 


SECOND    SCENE 

SVAVA.    MRS.  Rns.     Rns  comes  from  the  outside  with 
an  open  letter  in  his  hand. 

Rns.  Oh,  lying  down  a  little,  are  you?  [Goes  into  his  room 
to  deposit  hat  and  stick,  and  then  returns]  Nothing  serious,  I 
hope? 


Acrn.    sc.  ii        THE   GAUNTLET  47 

MRS.  Rns.  No,  but 

Rus.  Well,  here  is  a  letter  from  the  Christensens  now.  As 
you  don't  want  to  see  Alf,  or  even  receive  letters  from  him, 
you  have  to  be  prepared  for  the  interference  of  his  family. 
There's  an  end  to  everything,  of  course.  [Reads]  "My  wife, 
my  son  and  I  will  have  the  honour  of  calling  on  you  between 
eleven  and  twelve." — It's  a  wonder  that  this  hasn't  happened 
long  before.  They  have  shown  a  great  deal  of  patience,  I 
think. 

MRS.  Rns.  We,  on  our  side,  haven't  got  any  further  than 
we  were  before. 

Rns.  But  what  are  you  thinking  of,  Svava?  Can't  you 
see  where  this  kind  of  thing  must  lead  to?  You  have  a  heart 
in  you,  I  know,  and  I  am  sure  you  don't  want  to  ruin  all  of 
us?  Really,  it  seems  to  me,  Svava,  that  you  have  shown  all 
the  firmness  that  could  possibly  be  needful  in  this  case. 
Their  self-assurance  has  been  shaken  down  to  its  very  roots 
— you  can  depend  on  it.  Wliat  more  do  you  want?  Or  do 
you  actually  want  to  push  the  matter  still  farther?  Well, 
name  your  conditions.  In  all  likelihood  they  will  be  accepted. 

SVAVA.  Oh,  faugh! 

Rns.  [In  despair]  Well,  it  just  won't  do  to  take  it  that 
way! 

MRS.  Rns.  No,  it  won't,  Svava!  You  should  rather  try 
to  meet  them  half-way. 

Rns.  And,  really,  you  should  deign  to  consider  what  you 
are  throwing  away.  One  of  the  richest  families  in  the  coun- 
try, and  also  one  of  the  most  honourable,  I  dare  say.  I  have 
never  heard  of  any  indiscretions  on  their  part.  Yes,  that's 
what  I  say.  No  indiscretions,  I  say.  There  may  have  been 
a  lapse — or  more  than  one — but  then — good  Lord! 

SVAVA.  Yes,  bring  Him  in,  too! 

Rus.  Yes,  that's  just  what  I  mean  to  do.     For  the  matter 


48  THE   GAUNTLET        ACT  n.    sc.  n 

is  serious  enough.  Even  if  there  has  been  a  lapse  of  some  kind, 
I  say,  the  poor  young  fellow  has  been  punished  hard  enough 
for  it.  And,  after  all,  we  have  to  be  a  little  reasonable,  and 
forgive.  We  have  to  forgive.  And  more  than  that.  We 
have  to  help  those  that  err — we  have  to  raise  up  those  that 
fall — we  have  to  set  them  on  the  right  path —  Yes,  set  them 
on  the  right  path!  And  that's  a  thing  you  can  do  so  beauti- 
fully. You  are  just  made  for  it. — As  you  probably  know, 
my  dear,  it  doesn't  happen  very  often  that  I  talk  morality  or 
that  sort  of  thing.  Frankly  speaking,  it  isn't  becoming  to 
me,  and  I  feel  it  perfectly.  But  on  this  occasion  I  simply 
cannot  refrain. — Begin  by  forgiving,  my  child — that's  what 
you  should  begin  with!  And  besides,  can  you  imagine  a 
continued  life  together  without  some — without  some — well, 
without  that? 

SVAVA.  But  there  is  no  question  here  about  any  continued 
life  together — or  about  forgiving  either.  Because  I  don't 
want  to  have  anything  more  to  do  with  him. 

Rus.  But  this  passes  all  limits! — Because  he  has  dared  to 
love  somebody  else  before  you ? 

SVAVA.  Somebody? 

Rus.  Yes,  no  more  than  that,  so  far  as  I  am  aware  of. — 
No,  not  a  thing  more!  And  it  beats  the  deuce,  the  way  people 
run  around  with  slander  and  gossip.  But  what  I  say  is  this: 
because  he  dared  to  look  at  somebody  else  before  he  looked 
at  you,  or  before  he  ever  thought  of  you,  that's  no  reason  why 
he  should  be  eternally  condemned.  How  many  could  then 
get  married,  I  might  venture  to  ask.  Everybody  declares 
him  to  be  such  a  fine  and  honest  young  fellow  that  the  proud- 
est girl  in  the  world  could  trust  him  with  her  faith — yes,  and 
that's  just  what  you  said  yourself  a  while  ago!  Don't  deny 
it!  But  now  he  is  all  of  a  sudden  to  be  utterly  spurned  be- 
cause you  don't  happen  to  be  the  first  woman  he  met. — 


ACTH.    sc.  ii       THE   GAUNTLET  49 

There  should  be  some  limit  to  pride  as  well  as  to  everything 
else.  And  I,  for  my  part,  have  never  heard  of  anything  more 
unreasonable. 

MRS.  Rus.  That's  not  the  men's  way. 

Rus.  And  how  about  the  girls?  What  is  their  way? 
They  don't  care  whether  the  man  to  whom  they  become 
engaged  has  been  married  before — ah,  there  I  happened  to 
use  the  word  married.  You  may  simply  regard  him  as  having 
been  married  before.  And  why  not?  That's  what  other 
girls  do.  Well,  it's  no  use  denying  it !  For  I  know  that  you 
know  it!  You  have  danced  at  more  than  one  ball,  haven't 
you?  And  what  men  are  most  sought  after  on  such  occasions? 
Exactly  those — those  whose  names  are  smilingly  connected 
with  that  of  Don  Juan.  They  take  the  wind  out  of  the  sails 
of  everybody  else.  You  have  seen  it  yourself  a  hundred 
times. — And  does  it  happen  only  at  balls?  Don't  such  men 
marry?  As  a  rule  they  make  the  best  marriages  of  all. 

MRS.  Rns.  That's  true. 

Rus.  Of  course,  it  is  true.  And  as  a  rule  they  become 
pretty  good  husbands  at  that. 

MRS.  Rus.  Hm-m? 

Rns.  Oh,  yes,  indeed,  they  do! — Well,  good  gracious,  there 
are  exceptions !  But  the  truth  of  the  matter  is,  that  marriage 
has  an  ennobling  influence.  And  just  here  we  meet  with 
woman's  highest  mission.  The  very  highest  of  all  her  mis- 
sions ! 

SVAVA.  [Who  has  risen]  Oh,  if  need  be,  I  can  listen  to 
that  kind  of  thing  from  you.  For  I  have  expected  nothing 
better. 

Rns.  Thanks  very  much! 

SVAVA.  [Coming  down  the  stage]  One  might  think  that  mar- 
riage was  a  sort  of  higher  ablution  ary  institution  for  men • 

Rns.  Ha,  ha! 


50  THE   GAUNTLET        ACT  n.    sc.  n 

SVAVA.  And  that  men  had  a  right  to  throw  themselves  into 
it  just  when  they  wanted — and  in  any  manner  suiting  them. 

Rus.  Oh,  no — 

SVAVA.  Oh,  yes — and  it  is  flattering — so  very  flattering  to 
me,  your  own  daughter,  that  you  hold  me  particularly  fitted 
for  that  kind  of  higher  laundry  work.  Nevertheless  I  shall 
have  nothing  to  do  with  it. 

Rus.  But  this  beats 

SVAVA.  Now  you  listen  to  me  a  little!  I  don't  think  I 
have  been  talking  too  much  these  days. 

Rus.  No,  we  haven't  been  able  to  get  a  word  out  of  you. 

SVAVA.  You,  papa — you  carry  around  a  lot  of  principles 
for  exhibition  purposes. 

Rus.  For  what? 

SVAVA.  By  which  I  don't  mean  to  say  that  they  are  not 
yours.  But  you  are  so  good,  so  honest,  so  refined  in  every- 
thing you  do,  that  I  don't  care  a  rap  about  your  principles. 
But  I  do  care  about  mother's.  For  she  has  formed  my  own. 
And  when  I  want  to  apply  them,  she  runs  away. 

MRS.  Rus  and  Rus.  But,  Svava ! 

SVAVA.  It  is  mother  I  am  angry  with — it  is  her  I  cannot 
bear  with. 

Rus.  Really,  Svava! 

SVAVA.  For  if  there  be  any  one  thing  about  which  mother 
and  I  have  been  especially  agreed,  it  is  the  unseemly  way  in 
which  men  prepare  themselves  for  marriage — and  about  the 
marriages  which  are  the  outcome  of  it.  We  have  been  follow- 
ing up  this  matter  for  many  years,  mother  and  I.  And  both 
of  us  have  become  convinced  that  it  is  before  marriage  most 
marriages  are  spoiled. — And  then,  when  mother  began  to 
change  her  tone  a  while  ago 

MBS.  Rus.  No,  you  can't  say  I  have  done  that.  For  I 
believe  Alf  is  honest 


ACTH.    sc.ii        THE   GAUNTLET  51 

SVAVA.  When  mother  began  to  change  her  tone — well,  I 
could  not  have  been  more  surprised  if  somebody  had  come 
and  told  me  that  he  had  met  mother  on  the  street  while  she 
was  sitting  here  talking  with  me. 

MRS.  Rus.  But  all  I  ask  is  that  you  take  time.  I  don't 
oppose  you. 

SVAVA.  No,  let  me  speak  now. — Just  one  instance!  Once, 
when  I  was  about  half-grown,  I  came  running  in  here  from 
the  park.  We  had  recently  bought  the  place,  and  I  was  very 
happy  about  it.  And  then  I  found  mother  standing  here, 
leaning  up  against  the  door  and  crying.  It  was  a  beautiful 
summer  evening.  "Why  are  you  crying,  mamma?"  I  asked. 
For  a  long  while  she  pretended  not  to  see  me.  Then  I  went 
closer  to  her  and  asked  again :  "  Why  are  you  crying,  mamma?  " 
But  I  never  touched  her.  She  turned  away  from  me  and 
walked  back  and  forth  several  times.  Then  she  came  up  to 
me.  "  Child,"  she  said,  and  drew  me  close  to  herself.  "Never 
give  up  anything  of  what  you  think  good  and  right — not  for 
any  price!  It's  the  most  cowardly  thing  you  can  do,  and 
you'll  regret  it  terribly.  For  you  will  have  to  give  up  more 
and  more  and  more."  I  don't  know  what  she  had  in  mind: 
I  have  never  asked  her.  But  the  summer  evening,  and  mother 
crying,  and  her  words — the  force  of  those  words — it  would 
be  impossible  to  exaggerate  what  the  memory  of  it  all  has 
been  to  me.  7  cannot  give  up  anything.  Don't  ask  it  of 
me! — Everything  that  made  marriage  beautiful  to  me  is 
gone.  My  faith,  my  trust — gone!  No,  no!  This  cannot 
be  the  way  in  which  it  should  begin.  And  it  is  sinful  of  you 
to  try  to  persuade  me.  To  reach  it  through  such  disappoint- 
ment— such  humiliation?  No,  then  I'll  rather  remain  un- 
married— even  if  it  be  in  a  strange  country.  I  can  find  some- 
thing to  fill  up  my  life  with,  I  am  sure.  It  is  only  for  the 
moment  I  feel  lost.  And  anything  is  better  than  to  fill  up 


52  THE   GAUNTLET       ACTH.    sc.  in 

one's  life  with  impurity.  If  you  don't  reject  such  things  at 
once,  you  become  guilty  of  them  yourself.  Perhaps  there 
are  those  who  can  bear  such  things.  Not  I.  No,  I  cannot! — • 
You  think  it  is  pride.  Because  I  am  angry.  But  if  you 
knew  what  he  and  I  had  agreed  and  planned — then  you 
might  understand!  And  if  you  knew  what  I  have  thought 
of  him,  how  high  up  I  had  placed  him — well,  then  you  might 
also  understand  how  unhappy  I  am  now!  How  boundless 
my  loss  is! — Who's  crying?  Mother! —  [SvAVA  runs  across 
the  stage,  kneels  down  beside  her  mother  and  puts  her  head  in  her 
lap;  long  silence;  Rus  goes  out  to  the  right]  Why  cannot  we 
three  stick  together?  If  we  do,  what  have  we  to  fear?  What 
could  happen?  Papa,  what  could  happen? — Where  is  papa? 
[Catches  sight  of  DR.  NORDAN  outside]  Uncle  Nordan!  Well, 
I  never  expected!  [She  runs  up  the  stage  to  meet  him,  throws 
herself  into  his  arms  and  bursts  into  tears] 


THIRD     SCENE 
SVAVA.    MRS.  Rns.    DR.  NORDAN.    Later  Rns. 

NORDAN.  Oh,  you  little  goose!  You  dear,  silly  little 
goose! 

SVAVA.  Oh,  you've  got  to  talk  to  me  now! 

NORDAN.  Well,  why  do  you  think  I  am  here? 

SVAVA.  And  I  who  thought  you  were  up  in  the  mountains 
and  couldn't  be  reached! 

NORDAN.  Well,  where  do  you  think  I  was?  But  telegram 
after  telegram,  as  far  as  they  could  reach — and  then  messen- 
ger after  messenger — and  then,  last  of  all — but  I  suppose,  I 
dare  not  even  mention  his  name  now? 

Rns.  [Who  has  reappeared  from  the  right]  At  last!  The 
way  we  have  been  waiting  for  you ! 


ACTH.    sc.  ra       THE   GAUNTLET  53 

MRS.  Rns.  [Who  finally  lias  risen  and  come  forward]  Thank 
you  for  coming,  dear  doctor! 

NORDAN.  [Looking  at  MRS.  Rns]  There  must  be  stormy 
days  here. 

MRS.  Rns.  You  don't  need  to  be  told  anything. 

NORDAN.  Well,  off  with  you  now,  both  of  you !  Let  Noodle- 
kin  and  me  have  it  out  between  ourselves. 

MRS.  Rns  goes  out  to  the  left,  accompanied  by  SVAVA. 

Rns.  All  I  want  to  say  is  that  in  a  little  while 

NORDAN.  comes  the  whole  Christensen  host.     I  know ! 

Go  now! 

Rns.  [Whispering]  Nordan! 

NORDAN.  Yes,  yes — oh,  yes — no,  of  course  not!  [Drawing 
away  from  Rns]  Don't  you  think  I  know  all  that?  Get  out 
of  here! 

As  Rns  goes  out  to  the  right,  SVAVA  returns  from  the  left. 

SVAVA.  Dear  Uncle  Nordan — at  last  I  shall  have  some- 
body who  agrees  with  me! 

NORDAN.  Oh,  that's  what  you  expect? 

SVAVA.  Oh,  uncle,  what  days  these  have  been! 

NORDAN.  And  nights,  I  suppose? — Although  you  don't  look 
so  very  bad  after  all. 

SVAVA.  I  have  slept  the  last  couple  of  nights. 

NORDAN.  Oh,  you  have!  Then  I  think  I  see  how  the 
matter  stands. — You  are  a  tough  one,  you  are! 

SVAVA.  Don't  begin  now  to  say  a  lot  of  things  you  don't 
mean,  uncle! 

NORDAN.  That  I  don't  mean? 

SVAVA.  For  that's  what  you  always  do.  And  we  haven't 
time  for  it  now.  I  am  on  burning  coals. 

NORDAN.  Well,  what  haven't  you  gone  and  stirred  up? 

SVAVA.  There  you  begin  now! 

NORDAN.  Begin?    Who  the  deuce  has  made  you  believe 


54  THE    GAUNTLET       ACT  n.    sc.  m 

that  I  say  anything  but  what  I  mean?  Come  now  and  let's 
sit  down !  [He  places  a  chair  in  the  middle  of  the  floor. 

SVAVA.  {Putting  her  chair  near  his  but  at  a  right  angle  to  it] 
All  right! 

NORDAN.  I  understand  that  since  I  saw  you  last,  you  have 
issued  a  brand-new  commandment  in  regard  to  love.  My 
congratulations ! 

SVAVA.  Have  I? 

NORDAN.  A  supernatural,  Svava-istic  one.  Probably  de- 
vised from  the  science  of  spherical  harmonics.  "There  is  but 
one  love,  and  it  has  but  one  object."  Dixil 

SVAVA.  Have  7  said  that? 

NORDAN.  Are  you  not  spurning  a  young  man  because  he 
has  dared  to  love  before  he  saw  you? 

SVAVA.  So  you  are  also  regarding  it  in  that  manner? 

NORDAN.  In  that  manner?  As  if  among  rational  people 
there  were  any  other?  A  splendid  young  fellow  actually 
worships  you.  One  of  our  best  families  fling  their  double 
doors  wide  open  for  you  as  if  you  were  a  princess.  And  then 
you  retort:  "You  haven't  been  waiting  for  me  ever  since  you 
were  a  little  boy — avauntl" 

SVAVA.  [Rising  abruptly]  Oh,  you  too,  you  too!  And  the 
same  text!  The  same  stupid  old  text! 

NORDAN.  I  may  as  well  tell  you  this  much  at  once:  if  you 
don't  take  into  consideration  what  can  be  said  against  you, 
then  you  are  a  fool.  It's  no  use  whatever  for  you  to  rush 
away  from  me  and  begin  prancing  up  and  down.  For  then 
I'll  begin  to  prance  also.  Come  here  and  sit  down.  Or  per- 
haps you  don't  dare  to  study  the  question  more  closely? 

SVAVA.  Oh,  yes,  I  dare!       [She  sits  down  beside  him  again. 

NORDAN.  For  suppose  now  that  the  question  happens  to 
be  an  extremely  unsettled  one,  which  is  being  discussed  by 
serious  men  and  women  all  over  the  world? 


ACT  ii.    sc.  in       THE   GAUNTLET  55 

SVAVA.  But  it  concerns  me  alone.  And  to  me  it  isn't  un- 
settled at  all. 

NORDAN.  You  misunderstand  me,  child!  In  the  last  in- 
stance, you  have  to  decide  on  your  own  case — you,  and  nobody 
else.  Of  course!  But  when  what  you  are  to  decide  on  is  not 
quite  as  clear  as  you  may  think;  when,  at  this  very  moment, 
it  is  occupying  the  minds  of  thousands  and  thousands — is  it 
not  your  duty  then  to  show  some  regard  for  prevailing  con- 
ditions, and  for  what  is  generally  said  and  thought  about 
them?  Is  it  not  unconscionable,  without  some  such  regard, 
to  judge  the  individual  case? 

SVAVA.  I  see!  And  I  think  that  what  you  demand  of  me 
I  have  already  done.  Ask  my  mother. 

NORDAN.  Oh,  yes,  you  and  your  mother  have  talked  and 
read  a  whole  lot  about  marriage,  and  woman's  emancipation, 
and  the  abolition  of  special  privileges  for  special  classes — and 
now  all  privileges  of  sex  are  also  to  be  abolished.  But  what 
about  the  particular  question  at  issue? 

SVAVA.  What  is  it  you  think  I  have  overlooked? 

NORDAN.  This!  Have  you  the  right  to  be  as  exacting 
toward  man  as  toward  woman?  What  do  you  say? 

SVAVA.  Yes,  of  course! 

NORDAN.  Is  it  really  so  much  a  matter  of  course?  Suppose 
you  were  to  make  some  inquiries.  Of  a  hundred  people  you 
asked,  ninety  would  answer  "no" — even  among  the  women 
themselves! 

SVAVA.  I  don't  know — it's  beginning  to  change. 

NORDAN.  Very  well.  But  knowledge  is  needed  after  all 
to  settle  the  question. 

SVAVA.  Do  you  really  mean  what  you  are  saying? 

NORDAN.  Never  mind!  And  for  that  matter,  I  always 
mean  what  I  say. — A  woman  can  marry  at  sixteen.  A  man 


56  THE    GAUNTLET       ACT  n.     sc.  ra 

has  to  wait  until  he  is  twenty-five  or  thirty. — That  makes  a 
difference ! 

SVAVA.  There  is  a  difference!  For  we  have  many,  many, 
many  more  unmarried  women  than  men.  And  these  women 
are  showing  themselves  capable  of  self-control — while  the  men 
find  it  easier  to  make  a  law  out  of  their  lack  of  self-control. 

NOBDAN.  That  kind  of  talk  shows  nothing  but  ignorance. 
The  human  creature  is  a  polygamous  animal,  just  like  many 
other  ones,  and  this  theory  is  strongly  supported  by  the  fact 
that  we  have  so  many  more  women  than  men.  This  is  some- 
thing you  have  never  heard  before,  I  guess? 

SVAVA.  Yes,  doctor,  I  have! 

NORDAN.  Don't  laugh  at  science!  What  the  deuce  are  we 
to  believe  in  otherwise? 

SVAVA.  If  you  would  only  let  the  men  have  as  much 
trouble  with  their  children  as  the  women?  Why  don't  you 
let  them,  uncle?  Then  I  think  we  would  soon  have  a  new 
set  of  principles.  Oh,  just  let  them,  uncle! 

NORDAN.  They  haven't  the  time.  They  must  run  the 
world. 

SVAVA.  Yes,  they  have  chosen  their  own  part! — But  tell 
me,  Doctor  Nordan :  is  it  not  cowardly  not  to  live  in  accord- 
ance with  one's  own  teachings?  [She  kneels  down  beside  him. 

NORDAN.  Yes,  of  course,  it's  cowardly! 

SVAVA.  Why,  then,  don't  you  live  in  accordance  with 
yours? 

NORDAN.  I?  Why,  I  have  always  been  a  monster!  Don't 
you  know  that,  dear? 

SVAVA.  Dearest  Uncle  Nordan — you  have  such  long  white 
locks — why  do  you  let  your  hair  grow  that  way? 

NORDAN.  Oh — there  are  reasons! 

SVAVA.  And  what  reasons? 

NORDAN.  Don't  let  us  talk  of  that  now. 


ACTH.    sc.  in       THE   GAUNTLET  57 

SVAVA.  But  you  have  already  told  me. 

NORDAN.  Have  I? 

SVAVA.  I  wanted  to  touch  your  hair  once,  and  you  wouldn't 
let  me.  And  then  you  said:  "Do  you  know  why  I  won't  let 
you  do  it?" — "No,"  said  I. — "Because  nobody  else  has  done 
so  for  thirty-four  years."-  -"Who  was  the  last  one  that 
touched  it?"  I  asked. — "It  was  a  little  girl  whom  you  re- 
semble," you  answered. 

NORDAN.  No,  did  I  really  tell  you  that? 

SVAVA.  "And  she  was  a  younger  sister  of  your  grand- 
mother," you  said  to  me. 

NORDAN.  So  she  was.  Yes,  yes,  so  she  was.  And  you 
resemble  her,  child. 

SVAVA.  And  then  you  told  me  that  once — the  year  you 
entered  the  university — she  was  standing  beside  you  and  held 
as  much  as  she  could  of  your  hair  in  one  of  her  hands.  And 
then  she  said:  "You  must  never  wear  your  hair  shorter  than 
it  is  now." — She  went  her  way,  and  you  went  yours.  And  a 
little  while  afterward  you  wrote  and  asked  her  if  you  two 
hadn't  better  stick  together  for  life.  And  she  answered,  yes. 
But  a  month  later  she  died. 

NORDAN.  Did  she  die? 

SVAVA.  And  ever  since,  this  funny  Uncle  Nordan  has  con- 
sidered himself  married  to  her.  [NORDAN  nods]  And  the  very 
night  when  you  told  me  this — and  when  I  lay  awake  so  long, 
thinking  it  over  and  over — then  I  made  up  my  mind  that  I 
should  early  choose  one  in  whom  I  could  place  my  whole 
trust —  And  I  chose  badly. 

NORDAN.  No,  did  you,  Svava? 

SVAVA.  Don't  ask  me  about  it  now! — But  then  I  chose 
again,  and  felt  secure.  For  never  did  a  pair  of  eyes  look 
more  faithfully  into  another. — And  the  way  we  had  every- 
thing in  common!  Day  after  day,  each  one  bringing  some 


58  THE    GAUNTLET       ACT  n.     sc.  m 

new  discovery,  each  one  seeming  too  short.  Oh,  I  dare  not 
think  of  it  now ! — It  is  a  sin  to  deceive  in  that  way :  not  with 
words,  to  be  sure,  but  by  permitting  us  to  dream  and  to  sur- 
render ourselves.  No,  not  with  words.  And  yet  with  words, 
too.  For  don't  they  listen  to  our  words,  and  say  nothing, 
and  so  make  them  their  own?  They  take  pleasure  in  our 
innocence  as  in  a  piece  of  unspoiled  nature — and  just  by  so 
doing,  they  deceive  us.  For  the  result  of  it  is  a  certain  inti- 
macy, a  certain  mutual  banter,  that  can  only  have  one  basis — • 
that  is,  as  we  see  it.  And  then  it  turns  out  to  be  ambiguous 
after  all. — I  don't  understand  how  anybody  can  act  like  that 
toward  one  whom  he  loves?  For  he  did  love  me! 

NOBDAN.  And  he  does  now! 

SVAVA.  [Rising]  But  not  as  I  loved  him!  I  had  not  been 
giving  myself  away  by  piecemeal  during  the  passing  years. 
My  thoughts  of  love,  and  of  being  loved,  were  too  high  for 
that.  But  for  that  very  reason  my  desire  was  strong. — Oh, 
to  you  I  dare  say  so.  And  when  it  was  free,  it  nearly  swept 
me  off  my  feet.  But  I  felt  so  absolutely  safe  with  him,  and 
so  I  let  him  see  it,  and  I  took  pleasure  in  his  seeing  it. — It  is 
this  that  hurts  me  now.  For  he  was  not  worthy  of  it.  He 
said  to  me:  I  cannot  bear  that  anybody  else  touches  you. 
He  said  to  me:  when  I  catch  a  glimpse  of  your  arm,  then  I 
remember  that  it  has  been  lying  around  my  neck,  and  that 
nobody,  nobody  else  can  say  the  same. — And  I  felt  happy 
and  proud  at  hearing  him  say  it :  for  it  was  true.  A  hundred 
times  I  had  told  myself  that  somebody  would  say  just  that 
to  me  some  time.  But  what  I  had  not  thought  was  that  the 
man  speaking  thus  to  me  would  himself — oh,  abominable! 
Then  it  gets  a  meaning  that  makes  me  hate  him!  Yes,  the 
mere  thought  that  he  has  had  his  arms  about  me,  that  he 
has  touched  me — it  sets  me  trembling  to  my  innermost  soul! 
— I  lay  down  no  rules  for  others.  But  the  rule  for  myself 


ACTH.    sc.  in       THE   GAUNTLET  59 

springs  from  my  own  self.  My  whole  nature,  from  beginning 
to  end,  determines  it.  Let  me  alone! 

NORDAN.  This  is  more  serious  and  goes  deeper  than  I  had 
any  idea  of.  Nobody  else  looks  at  the  matter  in  such  a  way, 
and  Alf  least  of  all.  He  merely  feels  hurt — hurt  and  insulted 
because  you  don't  trust  him. 

SVAVA.  I  know  it. 

NORDAN.  Well,  don't  be  so  brusque  about  it.  For  it  is 
just  the  way  most  people  would  feel  about  it. 

SVAVA.  Hm-m? 

NORDAN.  Most  of  them  would  think:  other  girls  forgive 
that  sort  of  thing — just  because  they  love. 

SVAVA.  And  some  would  answer:  had  she  not  loved,  she 
might  also  have  forgiven. 

NORDAN.  And  yet,  Svava?     And  yet ? 

SVAVA.  But,  uncle,  can't  you  understand!  And  I  fear  I 
cannot  explain  it  to  you.  For  to  do  so,  I  should  be  able  to 
explain  what  it  is  we  put  into  a  man's  appearance,  nature, 
walk,  when  we  love  him — into  his  voice,  into  his  smile.  And 
it  is  just  this  that  is  gone.  The  meaning  of  it  all  is  gone. 

NORDAN.  For  a  while,  yes — until  you  have  had  time  to 
breathe 

SVAVA.  No,  no,  no!  Do  you  recall  a  song  I  have  often 
been  singing  to  you — about  the  image  of  the  loved  one? 
How  it  always  appears  with  a  burst  of  joy,  as  if  bathed  in  joy? 
Do  you  recall  it? 

NORDAN.  Yes. 

SVAVA.  Well  then — that  is  just  what  it  doesn't  do  any  longer ! 
It  does  appear,  of  course;  but  only  pain  comes  with  it. — 
Always! — And  a  thing  like  that  should  be  forgiven?  Because 
other  girls  have  forgiven?  But  did  they  then  never  love, 
those  other  girls?  Can  you  tell  me  that?  For  what  I  have 
loved  is  gone.  And  I  don't  intend  to  sit  down  and  try  to 


60  THE   GAUNTLET       ACT  n.     sc.  m 

dream  it  back  again.  I  shall  find  something  else  to  occupy 
myself  with. 

NOBDAN.  Well,  you  are  in  a  bitter  mood  now.  Your  ideal 
has  been  thoroughly  smashed.  And,  of  course,  it's  of  no  use 
to  talk  as  long  as  the  pain  of  it  lasts.  And  for  that  reason — - 
only  one  thing — one  single  little  thing — but  that  one  thing 
you  must  promise  me! 

SVAVA.  If  I  can. 

NOKDAN.  You  can.  There  are  many  things  to  be  consid- 
ered here.  Ask  for  time  to  think  it  over. 

SVAVA.  Oh — mother  has  written  to  you. 

NORDAN.  Well,  what  of  it?  Your  mother  knows  what  is 
at  stake  here. 

SVAVA.  At  stake?  You  talk  so  mysteriously  as  if  we  were 
not  safe?  Are  we  not?  My  father  speaks  of  leaving  the 
country.  Why? 

NOKDAN.  I  suppose  he  thinks  himself  compelled  to  do  so. 

SVAVA.  My  father?    For  economical  reasons? 

NORDAN.  Not  at  all!  No,  but  you  will  have  to  face  a  lot 
of  hostile  gossip.  For  there  is  a  challenge  in  what  you  do. 

SVAVA.  Oh,  we  are  not  afraid  of  criticism! — Of  course,  my 
father  has  very  peculiar  principles,  as  you  know.  But  as  far 
as  his  life  is  concerned — ?  I  hope  nobody  has  any  doubt  on 
that  score? 

NORDAN.  Now  listen,  girl;  nobody  can  prevent  people 
from  making  up  things.  Be  careful! 

SVAVA.  What  do  you  mean? 

NORDAN.  I  mean  that  you  ought  to  take  a  walk  in  the  park 
and  pull  yourself  together  a  little  before  the  Christensens  are 
at  the  door.  Try  to  calm  yourself  down,  and  then  come  in 
and  ask  for  a  little  more  time.  That's  all!  They  will  grant 
what  you  ask — because  they  are  forced  to.  Nothing  has 
happened,  and  every  road  remains  open.  Do  that  now! 


ACTH.    sc.in       THE   GAUNTLET  61 

SVAVA.  I  have  thought.  And  you  will  never  bring  me 
around. 

NORDAN.  All  right — then  what  remains  is  nothing  but  a 
formality? 

SVAVA.  Hm-m?  There  is  something  else  behind  what  you 
say. 

NORDAN.  My,  but  you  are  wilful !  Can't  you  do  this — for 
your  mother's  sake,  let  us  say?  Your  mother  is  a  very  good 
woman. 

SVAVA.  What  are  they  to  think  when  I  come  in  and  say: 
"Please  give  me  a  little  more  time!" — Oh,  no,  I  cannot! 

NORDAN.  Well,  what  would  you  say? 

SVAVA.  Nothing  at  all,  if  I  could  choose.     But  if  I  must 

NORDAN.  Of  course,  you  must! 

SVAVA.  Then  I'll  go  out  and  think  it  over.  [As  sJie  goes 
toward  the  door]  But  it  won't  be  what  you  want. 

NORDAN.  [Who  remains  standing  on  the  same  spot  as  before] 
But  it  must  be  just  that! 

SVAVA.  [Stopping  at  the  door]  You  said:  Your  mother  is  a 
very  good  woman — that's  what  you  said.  It  seemed  as  if 
you  were  putting  stress  on  mother? 

NORDAN.  Well? 

SVAVA.  And  my  father? 

NORDAN.  A  good  woman — your  father? 

SVAVA.  Why  do  you  try  to  evade  it  with  a  jest? 

NORDAN.  Oh,  hang  it,  because  it  is  serious,  of  course! 

SVAVA.  Is  my  father  not  to  be  trusted ? 

NORDAN.  Sh! 

SVAVA.  My  father? — Could  it  be  possible  that — ?  Is  that 
what  people  are  saying?  [When  DR.  NORDAN  remains  silent 
and  motionless]  It's  a  shame!  Impossible!  Impossible,  I 
say!  [She  goes  out  quickly. 


62  THE    GAUNTLET       ACT  n.    sc.  iv 

FOURTH     SCENE 

NORDAN.     Rus  comes  from  the  right. 

Uns.  What  is  the  matter  with  Svava? 

NORDAN.  [Walking  back  and  forth]  There  was  nothing  else 
to  do. 

Rus.  [Following  him]  Nothing  else  to  do?    But  what? 

NORDAN.  No,  I'll  be  darned  if  there  was  anything  else  to 
do! 

Rus.  Is  that  so?    But  what  was  it? 

NORDAN.  What  did  you  say? 

Rus.  No,  you  said 

NORDAN.  What  did  7  say? 

Rus.  You  said  that  there  was  nothing  else  to  do —  And 
you  quite  scared  me. 

NORDAN.  Did  I?     Well,  you  didn't  hear  right. 

[Goes  away  from  him. 

Rus.  Didn't  I?  Why,  you  even  said  you  would  be 
darned ! 

NORDAN.  I  didn't  do  anything  of  the  kind. 

Rus.  Well,  then  you  didn't. — But  what  happened  with 
Svava?  Can't  you  tell  me? 

NORDAN.  What  happened  with  Svava? 

Rus.  Why  are  you  so  preoccupied?    Did  things  go  wrong? 

NORDAN.  Preoccupied?     Why  should  I  be? 

Rus.  Well,  you  know  best.  But  I  was  asking  about  Svava. 
What  happened  with  Svava?  It  seems  to  me  I  have  a  right 
to  know! 

NORDAN.  You,  Riis? 

Rus.  Yes.  [As  NORDAN  puts  his  arm  through  his]  What  is 
it  now? 


ACTH.    sc.  iv       THE  GAUNTLET  63 

NORDAN.  Did  you  see  Svava? 

Rus.  As  she  rushed  out  into  the  park?  Yes. — My  dear 
fellow,  what  was  it? 

NORDAN.  It  was  the  Greek  tragedy. 

Rus.  The  Gr ? 

NORDAN.  Just  the  name.  Just  the  name.  You  know  what 
it  means,  don't  you? 

Rus.  Something  sad? 

NORDAN.  Not  at  all !  Something  very  funny !  It  came  to 
Greece  with  the  cult  of  Dionysos.  And  in  his  train  there  was 
a  goat 

Rus.  [Pulling  his  arm  away]  A — ?    But  what ? 

NORDAN.  Yes,  you  may  well  be  surprised.  For  the  goat 
sang. 

Rus.  He — sang? 

NORDAN.  Yes,  and  he  is  singing  still,  don't  you  know — and 
painting — oh!  His  pictures  appear  in  every  exhibition.  And 
he  works  in  bronze  and  marble.  Splendidly!  And  what  a 
courtier  he  is!  He  designs  the  costumes  and  decides  what 
society 

Rus.  Have  you  gone  clear  out  of  your  head? 

NORDAN.  Why  so? 

Rus.  I  am  merely  waiting  for  all  that  damned  nonsense  to 
blow  over.  Of  course,  we  are  accustomed  to  almost  anything 
when  you  are  in  this  mood,  but  to-night  I  cannot  understand 
a  blessed  word  of  what  you  are  saying. 

NORDAN.  Oh,  my  dear  fellow,  is  that  so? 

Rus.  Can't  you  tell  me  what  my  daughter  said?  It's  per- 
fectly ridiculous  that  I  can't  find  out!  Now,  be  brief  and 
plain:  what  did  she  say? 

NORDAN.  You  want  to  know  that? 

Rus.  And  he  asks  me  thai- 


64  THE    GAUNTLET         ACT  n.     sc.  v 

NORDAN.  She  said:  it  is  a  pity  about  all  the  innocent  little 
girls  that,  generation  after  generation,  come  tripping  along. 
That's  what  she  said. 

Rus.  Tripping  where? 

NORDAN.  That's  just  it:  where?  And  she  said:  they  are 
brought  up  in  pious  ignorance,  and  finally  those  trustful  ones 
are  swathed  in  a  long,  white  veil,  in  order  that  they  may  not 
see  where  they  are  going. 

Rus.  But  this  is  mythology  again.     Why  can't  you 

NORDAN.  Listen!  It's  your  daughter  speaking —  But  I 
will  not,  she  said.  I  will  walk  securely  into  holy  matrimony 
and  sit  beside  the  hearth  of  my  native  land  and  rear  children 
before  the  sight  of  my  husband.  But  he  must  be  chaste  as  I 
am,  or  he  will  defile  my  child's  head  when  he  kisses  it,  and  to 
me  he  will  bring  dishonour. — Now,  that's  what  she  said,  and 
when  she  said  it,  she  looked  so  beautiful! 

[A  door-bell  is  heard  ringing. 

Rus.  Now,  there  they  are!  There  they  are!  How  in  the 
world  is  this  going  to  end?  We  are  immersed  in  the  most  un- 
reasonable theories!  We  are  buzzing  about  in  the  midst  of 
a  gigantic  mythology!  [Rushes  toward  the  door. 


FIFTH     SCENE 

DR.  NORDAN.    Rus.    MR.  and  MRS.  CHRISTENSEN. 
MRS.  Rus.    MARGIT.    Later  ALF. 

Rus.  [Meeting  the  new-comers  and  speaking  while  they  are 
still  outside]  Welcome!  I  wish  you  welcome  of  all  my  heart! 
— But  where  is  your  son? 

CHRISTENSEN.  [Still  outside]  We  couldn't  make  him  come. 

Rus.  I  am  very  sorry.     Although,  of  course,  I  understand. 

CHRISTENSEN.  [Appearing  in  the  doorway]  Every  time  I 


ACTH.    sc.  v        THE   GAUNTLET  65 

come  here,  I  have  to  admire  your  splendid  place  over  again, 
my  dear  Riis. 

MBS.  CHRISTENSEN.  Oh,  this  old  park!  I  wish  that  in 
due  time —  Ah,  doctor — how  is  everything  going? 

NORDAN.  So-o-o 

RIIS.  [To  MARGIT,  who  has  followed  the  guests  in]  Please 
tell  Mrs.  Riis — will  you?  And — oh,  there  she  is!  [MRS.  RIIS 
enters  through  the  door  on  the  left]  And  Miss  Svava. 

NORDAN.  She  is  out  in  the  park — over  to  the  right ! 

[MARGIT  leaves. 

RIIS.  No,  the  other  way! — That's  it! — Walk  straight  ahead 
till  you  find  her! 

MRS.  CHRISTENSEN.  [Simultaneously  to  MRS.  RIIS  as  both 
come  down  the  stage]  Oh,  my  dear,  I  have  thought  of  you  so 
much  these  days!  Such  an  annoying  story! 

MRS.  RIIS.  May  I  ask  if  you  knew  anything  about  it 
before? 

MRS.  CHRISTENSEN.  What  hasn't  a  mother — and  a  wife — 
to  know  these  days,  dear?  As  you  may  recall,  she  was  in 
my  house.  Come  here  a  moment! 

She  relates  something  in  whispers,  gradually  raising  her 
voice  a  little,  so  that  toward  the  end  such  words  can  be 
heard  as  "discovery"  and  "turned  out." 

RIIS.  [Offering  chairs  to  the  ladies]  If  you  please! — Oh,  beg 
your  pardon,  I  didn't  see —  [Rushes  over  to  CHRISTENSEN] 
Excuse  me,  but  are  you  really  comfortable  there,  tell  me? 

CHRISTENSEN.  Thanks,  it's  as  bad  here  as  anywhere  else. 
For  it's  mainly  this  sitting  down  and  getting  up  again  that 
gives  me  trouble.  [After  looking  around]  I  have  been  to  see 
him. 

RIIS.  Whom— Hoff? 

CHRISTENSEN.  Decent  chap.    Stupid. 

RIIS.  Well,  if  he  only  keeps  his  mouth  shut 


66  THE   GAUNTLET        ACT  n.    sc.  v 

CHRISTENSEN.  He  will. 

Rus.  Thank  heaven!  Then  it's  all  between  ourselves. — I 
suppose  it  cost  something? 

CHRISTENSEN.  Not  a  cent! 

Rns.  Why,  you  got  out  of  that  cheap. 

CHRISTENSEN.  Yes,  didn't  I? — However,  it  has  cost  me 
plenty  before — but  he  knows  nothing  of  that. 

Rus.  Oh?     When  he  failed? 

CHRISTENSEN.  No,  when  he  married. 

Rus.  Oh,  I  see! 

CHRISTENSEN.  And  I  thought  that  ended  the  story.  What 
kind  of  whispering  game  are  the  ladies  playing? 

MRS.  CHRISTENSEN.  [Coming  toward  the  centre  of  the  stage; 
Rus  arranges  chairs  for  her  and  for  his  wife]  I  was  telling 
about  this  matter  with  Miss  Tang.  One  might  almost  say 
she  had  risen  out  of  her  grave. 

CHRISTENSEN.  Pardon  me,  but — isn't  your  daughter  at 
home? 

Rus.  We  have  sent  for  her. 

MRS.  CHRISTENSEN.  I  hope  she,  too,  has  learned  a  thing 
or  two  these  days,  poor  thing!  She  has  been  suffering  from 
a  fault  that  often  belongs  to  very  clever  people — I  mean  self- 
righteousness. 

Rus.  Exactly!     Quite  right!    Call  it  arrogance! 

MRS.  CHRISTENSEN.  No,  I  wouldn't  call  it  that.  But 
pride,  perhaps. 

MRS.  Rus.  What  makes  you  think  so? 

MRS.  CHRISTENSEN.  Several  talks  I  have  had  with  her. 
Once  I  spoke  of  the  husband  as  our  lord  and  master.  In  these 
days  of  new-fangled  ideas  it  is  just  as  well  to  impress  such 
things  on  our  young  girls. 

CHRISTENSEN.  Yes,  the  Lord  knows! 


ACTH.    sc.  v        THE   GAUNTLET  67 

MRS.  CHKISTENSEN.  And  when  I  reminded  her  of  what 
Paul  said,  she  replied:  "Yes,  those  are  the  bars  behind  which 
we  women  still  are  imprisoned."  Then  I  knew  that  some- 
thing was  bound  to  happen  sooner  or  later.  Pride  always 
goes  before  a  fall. 

CHRISTENSEN.  No,  dear — no.  That  line  of  reasoning  don't 
hold.  No,  really! 

MRS.  CHRISTENSEN.  Oh,  is  that  so? 

CHRISTENSEN.  No!  For  first  of  all,  it  was  not  Miss  Riis 
that  fell,  but  your  own  darling  son.  Secondly,  he  didn't  fall 
on  account  of  Miss  Riis's  pride — in  fact,  I  think  he  fell  several 
years  before  Miss  Riis  gave  vent  to  her  pride.  So  that  when 
you  knew  that  his  fall  would  result  from  Miss  Riis's  pride, 
then  you  knew  something  that  you  didn't  know  at  all. 

MRS.  CHRISTENSEN.  Yes,  you  scoff! 

CHRISTENSEN.  Oh,  I  have  to  attend  a  committee  meeting 
at  one  sharp.  May  I  ask  what  has  become  of  your  daughter? 

RIIS.  Yes,  I  am  also  beginning  to 

NORDAN.  [Who  has  kept  in  the  background,  sometimes  in  the 
room  and  sometimes  outside,  says  now  to  MARGIT,  who  is  just 
passing  by  the  door  from  right  to  left]  Didn't  you  find  her  until 
now? 

MARGIT.  Yes,  I  have  been  down  once  before  with  Miss 
Svava's  hat  and  parasol. 

NORDAN.  Is  she  going  out? 

MARGIT.  I  don't  know.  [Goes. 

CHRISTENSEN.  Well,  well! 

RIIS.  What's  the  meaning  of  this? 

[7*  about  to  leave  the  room. 

NORDAN.  No,  no!    Not  you! 

MRS.  RIIS.  [Has  risen  and  goes  toward  the  door]  I  think  I 
had  better 

RIIS.  Yes,  you  go! 


68  THE   GAUNTLET         ACT  n.     sc.  v 

NORDAN.  No,  I  will  go!  For  I  fear  I  have  been  the  cause — 
[Going]  I  promise  to  bring  her  back. 

CHRISTENSEN.  Well,  well! 

MRS.  CHRISTENSEN.  [Rising]  I  fear,  my  dear,  that  our 
visit  is  inconveniencing  the  young  lady? 

Rus.  You  must  have  forbearance  with  her!  It  comes  from 
all  these  romantic  ideas,  I  tell  you;  from  all  this  reading 
which  her  mother  has  not  held  properly  in  check. 

MRS.  Rns.  I?     What  is  it  you  are  saying? 

Rus.  I  am  saying  that  this  is  an  important  moment.  And 
such  moments  seem  to  bring  clearness — just  as  if — yes,  they 
do! 

CHRISTENSEN.  Your  husband,  Mrs.  Riis,  seems  to  have 
had  the  same  revelation  which  came  to  our  minister  recently 
— that  is,  to  my  wife's  minister.  It  was  just  after  dinner — a 
very  good  dinner,  too — and  that's  a  time  when  brilliant  ideas 
are  likely  to  come.  We  were  talking  about  how  much  more 
woman  has  to  learn  now  than  she  had  in  the  past.  It  didn't 
matter  much,  said  somebody,  for  she  forgot  all  about  it  as 
soon  as  she  was  married.  And  then  the  minister  cried  out 
joyfully:  "Yes,  my  wife  has  already  forgotten  how  to  spell, 
and  I  am  hoping  she  will  soon  forget  how  to  write  also." 

MRS.  CHRISTENSEN.  The  way  you  mimic  people — I  just 
have  to  laugh — although  it's  sinful. 

[CHRISTENSEN  looks  at  his  watch. 

Rus.  And  they  are  not  coming  yet! — Will  you  go,  or 
must  I ? 

MRS.  Rus.  {Rising}  I'll  go.  But  they  haven't  had  time 
yet 

Rus.  [Close  to  his  wife]  This  is  your  fault!  It's  perfectly 
plain  to  me. 

MRS.  RIIS.  I  don't"  think  you  know  what  you  are  saying. 

[Goes  out. 


ACTH.    sc.  v        THE   GAUNTLET  69 

Rns.  [Coming  back  to  the  middle  of  the  room]  I  have  to 
apologise — very  much!  This  was  the  very  last  thing  I  should 
have  expected  of  Svava.  For  I  dare  say  that  the  laws  of 
common  courtesy  have  never  before  been  violated  in  this 
house. 

MRS.  CHRISTENSEN.  Something  may  have  happened. 

Rns.  Why,  I  never  thought —    Good  God ! 

MRS.  CHRISTENSEN.  Don't  misunderstand  me  now.  I 
mean  that  a  young  girl  is  so  sensitive  to  emotion — and  then 
she  hesitates  to  show  herself. 

Rns.  All  the  same,  Mrs.  Christensen,  all  the  same!  In  a 
moment  like  this —  Well,  you  must  pardon  me,  but  I  cannot 
bear  this.  I  simply  must  see  for  myself  what  is  the  matter. 

[He  hurries  out. 

CHRISTENSEN.  If  Alf  had  been  here,  I  suppose  he  would 
also  be  running  around  the  park  after  the  lady. 

MRS.  CHRISTENSEN.  But,  dear! 

CHRISTENSEN.  Are  we  not  alone? 

MRS.  CHRISTENSEN.  Yes,  but  nevertheless 

CHRISTENSEN.  Well,  then  I  can  only  say  as  a  famous  man 
said  long  before  me:  Why  the  devil  did  he  venture  on  board 
that  galley? 

MRS.  CHRISTENSEN.  Now  be  patient  for  a  few  moments! 
It's  absolutely  necessary. 

CHRISTENSEN.  Necessary?  Pooh!  Riis  is  more  afraid  of  a 
breach  than  any  one  of  us.  Didn't  you  notice  him  a  moment 
ago? 

MRS.  CHRISTENSEN.  I  did,  but 

CHRISTENSEN.  She  has  already  gone  far  beyond  what  she 
has  a  right  to. 

MRS.  CHRISTENSEN.  That's  what  Alf  thinks  also. 

CHRISTENSEN.  Then  he  should  have  been  on  hand  to  say 
so.  It  was  what  I  wanted. 


70  THE   GAUNTLET        ACT  n.    sc.  v 

MRS.  CHRISTENSEN.  Alf  is  in  love — and  that  makes  a  man 
timid. 

CHRISTENSEN.  Oh-h! 

MRS.  CHRISTENSEN.  Yes,  being  in  love  as  often  as  you  are 
is  a  different  thing.  [She  gets  up]  There  they  come —  No — 
not  Svava! 

CHRISTENSEN.  Isn't  she  coming? 

MRS.  CHRISTENSEN.  [Speaking  at  the  same  time  as  her 
husband]  I  don't  see  her. 

Rus.  [Appearing  outside]  Here  they  are! 

MRS.  CHRISTENSEN.  And  your  daughter? 

Rus.  Svava,  too!  She  just  asked  us  to  walk  ahead.  She 
wanted  a  chance  to  pull  herself  together. 

MRS.  CHRISTENSEN.  [Sitting  down  again]  There  you  see! 
It  was  as  I  thought.  Poor  thing ! 

MRS.  RHS.  Now  she'll  be  here  in  a  moment.  [Close  to  MRS. 
CHRISTENSEN]  You  must  forgive  her — it  has  been  a  hard 
time  for  her. 

MRS.  CHRISTENSEN.  Goodness  gracious,  I  understand  per- 
fectly. The  first  time  you  experience  a  thing  of  that  kind, 
it's  something  dreadful. 

CHRISTENSEN.  Really,  this  is  becoming  quite  amusing! 

NORDAN.  Now  then!  She  just  asked  me  to  walk  a  little 
ahead. 

Rus.  I  think  we  have  waited  long  enough. 

NORDAN.  She's  right  behind  me. 

Rus.  There  she  is! 

Goes  over  toward  the  right;   MRS.  Rus  and  NORDAN 
meet  SVAVA,  who  is  coming  from  the  left. 

CHRISTENSEN.  One  might  think  it  was  the  Queen  of  Sheba! 


ACTH.    sc.  vi       THE   GAUNTLET  71 

SIXTH    SCENE 

The  same  as  before.    SVAVA.    Later  ALF. 

SVAVA  has  put  on  hat  and  gloves,  and  carries  a  parasol. 
MR.  and  MRS.  CHRISTENSEN  have  both  stood  up.  She 
greets  them  with  a  slight  movement  of  her  head  and  walks 
over  to  the  corner  on  the  right  in  the  foreground.  Every- 
body sits  down  in  silence;  NORD  AN  furthest  to  the  left; 
then  MRS.  Rus,  MRS.  CHRISTENSEN,  CHRISTENSEN; 
and  way  over  to  the  right,  but  in  the  background,  Rus, 
who  alternately  sits  down  and  gets  up  again. 

MRS.  CHRISTENSEN.  My  dear  Svava,  we  have  come  here 
to — well,  you  yourself  know  why.  What  has  happened  has 
caused  us  a  great  deal  of  sorrow.  But  it's  something  that 
cannot  be  undone.  We  don't  want  to  justify  Alf's  conduct. 
But  it  seems  to  us  he  might  be  forgiven,  particularly  by  one 
who  feels  that  she  is  loved,  genuinely  loved.  For  that  is 
something  entirely  different! 

CHRISTENSEN.  Of  course! 

Rus.  Of  course! 

NORDAN.  Of  course! 

CHRISTENSEN.  And  even  if  you  don't  agree  to  this,  I  hope 
you  can  agree  with  regard  to  Alf  himself.  For  we  believe, 
my  dear  Svava,  that  in  his  character  you  have  a  guarantee 
of  absolute  faithfulness.  I  know  that  if  it  should  be  demanded 
of  him,  he  will  give  you  his  word  of  honour. 

MRS.  Rus.  [Rising  suddenly]  Oh,  no,  no! 

MRS.  CHRISTENSEN.  What  is  it,  my  dear? 

MRS.  Rus.  Nothing  of  that  kind!  Why,  the  marriage 
ceremony  itself  is  the  same  as  a  vow. 


72  THE    GAUNTLET        ACT  n.     sc.  vi 

NORDAN.  But  perhaps  two  might  be  more  effective,  Mrs. 
Riis? 

MRS.  Rus.  No,  not  that!    No  vows!         [Sits  doicn  again. 

CHRISTENSEN.  I  have  been  noticing  the  remarks  of  our 
friend  here,  Dr.  Nordan. — Tell  me,  my  dear  sir,  do  you  also 
hold  that  my  son's  action  must  absolutely  prevent  his  mar- 
riage with  a  respectable  woman? 

NORDAN.  On  the  contrary !  Such  a  thing  never  prevents  a 
man  from  marrying — and  marrying  very  well  at  that.  So 
that  in  this  case  it  is  Svava  alone  who  in  every  respect  acts 
peculiarly. 

MRS.  CHRISTENSEN.  I  shouldn't  say  that.  But  there  is 
something  Svava  has  overlooked.  She  is  acting  as  if  she  were 
free.  But  she  is  far  from  free.  An  engagement  is  a  marriage. 
At  least,  I  am  old-fashioned  enough  to  look  at  it  that  way. 
But  then  he  to  whom  I  have  given  my  hand  is  also  my  lord, 
my  master,  and  I  owe  it  to  him — as  to  everybody  else  in 
authority — to  hold  him  in  honour  whether  his  actions  be 
good  or  bad.  I  cannot  cast  him  aside  or  run  away  from  him 
myself. 

Rus.  That's  old-fashioned  and  solid!  I  thank  you  with 
all  my  heart,  Mrs.  Christensen! 

NORDAN.  I  also ! 

MRS.  Rus.  But  if  it  is  too  late  after  you  are  engaged 

[Checks  herself. 

MRS.  CHRISTENSEN.  What  do  you  mean,  my  dear? 

MRS.  Rus.  Oh,  no — it  wasn't  anything  at  all. 

NORDAN.  If  it  is  too  late  after  the  engagement,  Mrs.  Riis 
means — why  not  then  tell  the  truth  before  the  engagement? 

Rus.  Well,  there  came  the  only  thing  still  wanting! 

CHRISTENSEN.  Ah,  but  there  would  be  style  to  that! 
Suppose  hereafter  a  proposal  should  come  to  be  something 
like  this:  "My  dear  young  lady,  up  to  date  I  have  had  so 


ACTH.    sc.  vi       THE   GAUNTLET  73 

and  so  many  love  affairs — to  wit,  so  and  so  many  serious 
ones,  and  so  and  so  many  lighter  ones."  That  would  be  an 
excellent  introduction,  wouldn't  it,  to 

NORDAN.  to  a  declaration  that  he  has  never  loved 

anybody  else. 

CHRISTENSEN.  Not  exactly  that,  but 

Rus.  Why,  there's  Alf! 

MRS.  Bus.  Alf? 

MRS.  CHRISTENSEN.  Yes,  there  he  is! 

Rus.  [Going  to  meet  him]  That's  right!  I  am  glad  to  see 
you! 

CHRISTENSEN.  We-ell? 

ALF.  In  the  end  I  couldn't  help  myself.     I  had  to  come. 

CHRISTENSEN.  And  right  you  did. 

Rus.  It  was  the  only  natural  thing. 

ALT  steps  forward  and  bows  very  deeply  to  SVAVA.  She 
acknowledges  his  greeting,  but  without  looking  at  him. 
He  steps  back. 

NORDAN.  Hello,  my  boy! 

ALF.  Perhaps  my  presence  is  not  convenient? 

Rus.  Far  from  it — on  the  contrary! 

ALF.  It  seems,  however,  as  if  Miss  Riis  didn't  wish  to 
have  me  here?  [Silence. 

MRS.  CHRISTENSEN.  But  in  a  family  conference  like  ours 
just  now?  Don't  you  think  so,  my  dear? 

Rus.  I  assure  you  that  you  are  welcome.  It  is  just  what 
you  have  to  say  that  we  are  all  waiting  for. 

CHRISTENSEN.  That's  right. 

ALF.  I  have  not  succeeded  in  getting  a  hearing  before  now. 
I  have  repeatedly  been  turned  away.  Both  I  and  my  letters. 
And  so  I  thought — that  if  I  came  now,  I  might  be  heard. 

Rus.  Of  course!    Nobody  would  think  of  anything  else. 

NORDAN.  You  will  be  heard. 


74  THE   GAUNTLET       ACT  n.    sc.  vi 

ALF.  Perhaps  I  may  regard  Miss  Riis's  silence  as  a  per- 
mission? In  that  case — well,  it  isn't  much  I  have  to  say 
either.  All  I  want  is  to  recall  the  fact  that  when  I  applied  for 
the  hand  of  Miss  Riis,  I  did  so  because  I  loved  her  with  all 
my  heart — her,  and  no  one  else.  The  greatest  happiness  I 
could  imagine,  and  also  the  greatest  honour,  was  to  be  loved 
by  her  in  return.  And  nothing  has  changed  since  then. 

[He  makes  a  pause  as  if  expecting  an  answer. 
Everybody  looks  at  SVAVA. 

ALT.  If  Miss  Riis  expects  me  to  say  more  than  that — if 
she  expects  me  to  make  apologies — well,  I  can't  see  the  matter 
in  that  light.  I  can't  feel  myself  under  such  an  obligation 
to  anybody.  [Silence]  What  I  might  offer  voluntarily — what 
I  might  be  anxious  to  tell  under  other  circumstances — of  that 
I  cannot  speak  now.  But  I  am  under  no  such  obligation  to 
anybody.  My  honour  demands  that  I  insist  on  this.  The 
only  thing  for  which  I  am  responsible  is  my  future.  And  in 
respect  to  that  I  must  admit  it  has  offended  me  deeply  that 
Miss  Riis  has  for  a  moment  been  able  to  doubt  me.  It  has 
offended  me  very  deeply.  Never  in  my  life  have  I  been 
doubted  in  the  same  way  before. — I  must  ask,  with  all  proper 
respect,  that  I  be  taken  at  my  word.  [After  another  pause] 
Well,  that's  all. 

MRS.  RIIS.  [Rising  instinctively]  But  if  under  similar  cir- 
cumstances, a  woman  should  say  the  same  thing — who  would 
believe  her? 

Silence.     SVAVA  bursts  into  tears. 

MRS.  CHRISTENSEN.  Poor  child ! 

RIIS.  Believe  her? 

MRS.  RIIS.  Yes,  believe  her. — Believe  her  if,  with  a  past 
like  that  behind  her,  she  dared  to  assert  that  she  would  always 
remain  a  faithful  wife? 

CHRISTENSEN.  With  such  a  past? 


ACTH.    sc.  vi       THE    GAUNTLET  75 

MRS.  Rus.  Perhaps  the  expression  is  poor.  But  why  de- 
mand that  she  trust  the  man  more  than  he  will  trust  her? 
For  he  wouldn't  believe  her  at  all. 

Rus.  [Coming  up  behind  his  wife]  Have  you  gone  clear 
crazy? 

CHRISTENSEN.  [Half  rising]  If  you  pardon  me,  ladies  and 
gentlemen,  I  think  the  two  young  people  should  be  permitted 
to  settle  the  matter.  [Sits  down  again. 

ALF.  I  must  confess  that  I  have  never  given  a  thought  to 
what  Mrs.  Riis  is  talking  of,  because  it  could  never  happen. 
No  decent  man  would  ever  choose  a  woman  of  whose  past  he 
was  not  absolutely  sure.  Not  one! 

MRS.  Rus.  But  how  about  the  decent  woman,  Alf? 
ALF.  That's  a  different  thing. 

NORDAN.  To  put  it  exactly:  a  woman  owes  the  man  both 
her  past  and  her  future,  a  man  owes  the  woman  only  his 
future. 

ALF.  If  you  like — yes. 

NORDAN.  [To  SVAVA,  as  he  gets  up]  I  did  wish  you  to  post- 
pone your  answer,  Svava.  But  now  I  think  you  ought  to 
answer  at  once. 

SVAVA  goes  up  to  ALF  and  flings  one  of  her  gloves  in  his 
face.     Then  she  disappears  into  her  room.    ALF  makes 
a  complete  face-about  to  look  after  her.     Rus  rushes 
into  his  room  on  the  right.     All  are  on  their  feet.     MRS. 
CHRISTENSEN  takes  hold  of  ALF'S  arm  and  goes  out 
with  him.     CHRISTENSEN  follows  them.    MRS.  Rus 
runs  across  the  stage  to  the  left. 
NORDAN.  That  was  the  gauntlet,  all  right. 
MRS.  Rus.  [In  front  of  the  locked  door  behind  which  SVAVA 
t*as  disappeared]  Svava! 

CHRISTENSEN.  [Returns  and  says  to  NORDAN  before  the  latter 


76  THE    GAUNTLET        ACT  n.     sc.  vi 

has  noticed  him  or  had  a  chance  to  turn  around]  It  is  war,  then? 

— Well,  I  think  I  know  something  about  war !    [Goes  out  again. 

NORDAN  turns  around  to  look  after  him  and  remains 

standing  that  way. 
MRS.  Rus.  [At  the  door  as  before]  Svava! 

Rus  comes  out  of  his  room  in  great  haste,  with  hat  and 
gloves  on  and  a  walking-stick  in  his  hand;  runs  after 
the  CHRISTENSENS. 
MRS.  Rus.  Svava! 

Curtain. 


ACT    III 

A  garden,  at  the  end  of  which  is  seen  the  rear  of  a  pretty  one-story 
house. 

FIRST     SCENE 

NORDAN.    ALF.    CHRISTENSEN. 

DR.  NORDAN  is  sitting  on  a  chair  in  the  foreground,  read- 
ing.    An  old  man-servant  opens  the  door  of  the  house. 

SERVANT.  Doctor! 

NORDAN.  What  is  it?  [ALF  appears  in  the  door]  Oh,  is  it 
you?  [Rising]  Well,  my  boy? — But  how  you  look! 

ALF.  Never  mind  that!     Can  you  give  me  some  breakfast? 

NORDAN.  Have  you  had  no  breakfast  yet?  Haven't  you 
been  home?  Not  home  all  night?  Not  since  yesterday? 
[Calling  out]  Thomas! 

ALF.  And  when  I  have  eaten,  I  must  have  a  talk  with  you. 

NORDAN.  Of  course.  My  dear  boy!  [To  THOMAS]  Get 
ready  some  breakfast  in  there. 

[Pointing  to  a  window  on  the  left  side  of  the  house. 

ALF.  And  I  suppose  I'll  have  to  straighten  out  my  appear- 
ance a  little  too? 

NORDAN.  Go  with  Thomas!  I'll  be  there  in  a  moment. 
[THOMAS  and  ALF  go  into  the  house;  at  that  moment  a  carriage 
is  heard  stopping  in  front  of  the  house]  There  is  a  carriage 
now!  See  what  it  is,  Thomas! — No  practice!  Going  away 
to-morrow ! 

SERVANT.  It's  Mr.  Christensen,  sir!  [Goes  out  again. 

77 


78  THE   GAUNTLET        ACT  m.    sc.  i 

NORDAN.  Ho-ho!  [Goes  over  to  the  window  on  the  left]  Alf! 

ALF.  [In  the  window]  Yes? 

NORDAN.  Your  father!  If  you  don't  want  to  be  seen,  just 
pull  down  the  shade. 

The  shade  is  drawn. 

SERVANT.  This  way,  please! 

CHRISTENSEN.  [In  evening  dress;  around  his  neck  is  seen  the 
big  cross  worn  by  a  Knight  Commander  of  the  Order  of  St.  Olav; 
a  light  coat  hangs  across  his  shoulders]  I  hope  you  will  pardon 
me! 

NORDAN.  Certainly! — In  all  your  glory? — Congratulations! 

CHRISTENSEN.  Oh,  we  freshly  baked  ones  have  to  make 
our  bow  at  court  to-day.  But  on  my  way  to  the  palace  I 
thought  I  would  stop  for  a  moment  with  you,  if  you  will  let 
me. — Have  you  heard  anything  from  that  quarter?  From  the 
Riises? 

NORDAN.  No.  I  suppose  they  are  waiting  for  the  "war" 
to  begin. 

CHRISTENSEN.  Well,  it's  coming!  I  intend  to  start  it  this 
very  day.  But  I  thought  she  might  have  become  a  little 
more  reasonable?  Women  act  ugly  about  that  kind  of  thing 
as  a  rule.  But  afterward  they  become  so  much  the  meeker. 

NORDAN.  I  don't  think  so.  But  I  bow  before  your  greater 
experience. 

CHRISTENSEN.  Thanks!  But  as  a  family  buffer  of  long 
service,  you  must  have  a  still  greater. — Yesterday  she  was 
like  an  electric  eel. — And  she  knew  how  to  hit!  I  don't 
think  the  boy  has  been  home  ever  since.  I  am  almost  glad 
of  it.  For  it  means  there  must  be  some  shame  in  him.  And 
I  had  almost  begun  to  doubt  it. 

NORDAN.  It  is  this  matter  about  the  "war"  that  interests 
me. 

CHRISTENSEN,  Oh,  are  you  so  keen  on  that?    Well — I  guess 


ACTm.    sc.  i       THE   GAUNTLET  79 

that  matter  will  take  care  of  itself.  The  case  of  Mrs.  North 
can  be  opened  up  again  any  day,  my  dear  fellow.  It  rests 
with  the  bank,  don't  you  know. 

NORDAN.  But  what  has  it  to  do  with  your  son's  engagement? 

CHRISTENSEN.  What,  you  ask?  My  son  is  jilted  by  Miss 
Riis  because  she  does  not  approve  of  his  relations  before  the 
marriage.  Her  father  maintains  similar  relations  in  spite  of 
his  marriage!  Tableau  vivant  tres  curieux — to  use  the  lan- 
guage of  which  Mr.  Riis  himself  is  so  fond ! 

NORDAN.  Oh,  that's  disgusting!  For  your  son  alone  is  to 
blame  in  this  matter. 

CHRISTENSEN.  My  son  is  not  to  blame  at  all.  He  has  done 
nothing  whatever  that  could  bring  harm  or  dishonour  to  the 
Riis  family.  Nothing  whatsoever!  He  is  an  honest  man 
who  has  given  his  promise  to  Miss  Riis,  and  this  promise  he 
has  kept.  Who  dares  say  anything  else?  Or  that  he  does 
not  mean  to  keep  it?  To  doubt  him  is  an  insult,  my  dear 
doctor.  There  must  be  apologies — and  peace — or  war!  For 
I  am  not  going  to  stand  this.  And  if  my  son  intends  to  do  so, 
I  shall  despise  him. 

NORDAN.  /  believe  that  your  son's  promise  was  honestly 
meant  when  he  gave  it.  It  is  possible  that  he  might  have 
kept  it  also — but  I  don't  know!  I  have  learned  to  doubt.  I 
am  a  physician.  I  have  seen  too  much.  And  yesterday  he 
did  not  appear  to  advantage. — Yes,  you  must  pardon  me. 
But  on  top  of  his  lively  bachelor  life,  and  with  the  heritage 
that  is  back  of  him — if  anybody  doubted  him — if  his  fiancee 
doubted  him — do  you  really  think  that  would  be  so  very 
remarkable — my  dear  sir?  Do  you  think  he  had  a  right 
to  become  offended?  To  demand  apologies?  Apologies  for 
what?  Because  somebody  dared  to  doubt  his  virtue? — Just 
think  of  it! 

CHRISTENSEN.  Oh,  fiddlesti 


80  THE   GAUNTLET        ACT  m.    sc.  i 

NORDAN.  One  moment !  I  am  only  half  through.  For  you 
spoke  also  of  peace — which  means  marriage.  And  if  your  son 
cares  to  marry  a  woman  who  does  not  feel  sure  of  him,  then  7 
shall  despise  him. 

CHRISTENSEN.  Well ! 

NORDAN.  Well,  I  shall.  That  shows  how  opinions  may 
differ.  According  to  the  way  I  feel  about  it,  your  son  has 
simply  to  submit — and  to  wait.  Wait  and  keep  quiet.  Al- 
ways provided,  of  course,  that  he  is  still  in  love. — Now  you 
know  what  I  think  of  the  matter. 

CHRISTENSEN.  First  of  all  I  presume  that  most  suitors  have 
erred  in  the  same  way  as  my  son.  At  least,  that  is  my  own 
belief.  Furthermore  I  presume  that  they  have  the  same 
unfortunate  "heritage" — a  word  on  which  you  lay  especial 
emphasis  out  of  friendly  consideration  for  me.  But  is  that 
any  reason  for  a  majority  of  engaged  young  women  to  behave 
as  Miss  Riis  does?  To  raise  an  outcry,  to  run  away,  to  make 
a  scandal?  If  it  were,  what  a  hubbub  there  would  be!  The 
result  would  be  the  most  diverting  anarchy  ever  heard  of  in 
this  world —  No,  these  doctrines  now  confronting  us  are 
against  the  nature  and  order  of  things.  They  are  false. 
And  when,  in  the  bargain,  they  are  hurled  at  our  heads  in 
the  form  of  judgments  by  a  Supreme  Court  of  Morals,  then 
I  strike  back!  Good-bye!  [Starts  to  leave,  but  turns  back] 
Against  whom  would  these  Supreme  Court  decisions  be  di- 
rected, do  you  think?  As  a  rule,  against  the  best  and  ablest 
young  men  in  the  country.  And  these  are  the  men  that  we 
should  put  in  a  class  by  themselves  as  special  objects  of 
derision! — And  against  what  would  those  decisions  turn? 
Against  the  better  part  of  the  world's  literature  and  art; 
against  a  great  deal  of  what  is  most  beautiful,  most  entranc- 
ing in  our  own  time — above  all,  against  the  great  cities  of  the 
world.  Against  those  world-miracles — the  cities  of  vast 


Acrrn.    sc.  n       THE   GAUNTLET  81 

millions.  You  cannot  deny  it! — Just  that  life  which  keeps 
apart  from  marriage,  or  breaks  it  up,  or  tries  to  change  the 
whole  institution — yes,  you  know  very  well  what  I  mean — 
all  that  which  we  describe  as  "seductive"  in  fashions,  in 
luxury,  in  sociability,  in  art,  in  literature — it  is  just  this 
which  contributes  more  than  anything  else  to  the  richness  of 
life  in  the  big  cities.  It  is  one  of  their  main  sources  of  power. 
Nobody  who  has  seen  it,  can  doubt  this.  But  everybody 
pretends  not  to  understand.  Is  then  all  this  to  be  destroyed? 
Are  the  best  among  our  youths  to  be  made  outcasts?  Are 
the  great  cities  of  the  world  to  be  ruined? — Yes,  people  de- 
mand so  much  in  the  name  of  morality,  that  at  last  they 
demand  what  is  immoral. 

NOBDAN.  Ah,  you  are,  indeed,  applying  the  superior  ability 
of  a  statesman  to  your  little  war. 

CHRISTENSEN.  Nothing  but  common  sense,  my  dear  fellow. 
But  that's  all  that's  needed.  And  you  may  be  sure  that  the 
whole  city  will  be  on  my  side. 

SERVANT.  Doctor! 

NORDAN.  Well,  I  declare!          [He  hurries  toward  the  house. 


SECOND     SCENE 

The  same  as  before.     MRS.  Rus. 

MRS.  Rus.  May  I  come  in? 

NORDAN.  Of  course  you  may! 

MRS.  Rus  [To  CHRISTENSEN,  who  has  saluted  her]  My  visit 
is  really  for  you. 

CHRISTENSEN.  I  am  delighted! 

MRS.  Rus.  I  happened  to  be  at  the  window  just  as  your 
carriage  drove  up  and  you  stepped  out.  And  so  I  thought  I 
should  seize  the  opportunity — for  yesterday  you  uttered  a 


82  THE    GAUNTLET       ACT  m.    sc.  n 

threat  against  us.  Am  I  right?  You  declared  war  against 
us? 

CHRISTENSEN.  It  seems  to  me  that  it  was  declared,  and 
that  I  merely  accepted  it? 

MRS.  RIIS.  And  what  is  the  object  of  your  war,  if  I  may  ask? 

CHRISTENSEN.  I  have  just  explained  my  position  to  the 
doctor.  But  I  doubt  whether  it  would  be  chivalrous  to  dp 
so  to  you. 

NORDAN.  Then  I  shall  do  it.  The  war  is  directed  against 
your  husband.  Mr.  Christensen  means  to  take  the  offensive. 

MRS.  RIIS.  Of  course!  For  you  know  that  you  can  reach 
him.  But  I  have  come  to  ask  you  to  reconsider. 

CHRISTENSEN.  [Smiling]  Is  that  so? 

MRS.  Rus.  Once — it  is  many  years  ago  now — I  picked  up 
my  child  in  my  arms  and  meant  to  leave  my  husband.  Then 
he  mentioned  a  name.  He  used  it  as  a  shield.  It  was  the 
name  of  a  very  powerful  man.  And  he  said:  "Observe  how 
forbearing  that  man's  wife  is.  And  because  of  her,  the  whole 
community  is  forbearing.  And  those  who  wilt  benefit  by  it 
are  their  children." — Those  were  his  exact  words. 

CHRISTENSEN.  Well?  In  so  far  as  advice  was  suggested, 
it  was  good  advice.  And  you  took  it,  didn't  you? 

MRS.  Rns.  In  our  country  it  is  a  shame  to  be  a  divorced 
wife.  And  it  brings  no  honour  to  be  the  daughter  of  such  a 
woman.  The  wealthy,  the  powerful  people,  those  that  set 
the  tone,  have  caused  it  to  be  so. 

CHRISTENSEN.  Oh,  well ? 

MRS.  Rus.  This  was  my  excuse  when  I  stayed  for  the  sake 
of  my  child's  future.  But  it  was  also  my  husband's  excuse 
— he  being  one  who  follows  the  example  set  by  others. 

CHRISTENSEN.  We  all  do,  madam. 

MRS.  Rus.  But  the  men  of  most  power  less  than  others. 


ACT  m.    sc.  ii      THE  GAUNTLET  83 

And  in  this  respect  they  are  setting  examples  which  are  very 
tempting  to  the  rest. — I  can  hardly  be  mistaken  in  assuming 
that,  during  these  last  days,  I  have  heard  your  ideas  from  my 
husband's  lips.  But  if  mistaken  in  this,  I  was  surely  right 
in  hearing  you  back  of  what  your  son  said  yesterday? 

CHRISTENSEN.  I  stand  by  every  word  my  son  spoke. 

MRS.  Rus.  So  I  thought.  Well,  it  will  be  a  strange  war, 
this  one  of  yours.  For  you  are  back  of  everything  that  has 
happened  from  first  to  last.  You  are  the  whole  war — on  both 
sides. 

NORDAN.  Before  you  answer! — May  I  submit  to  you,  Mrs. 
Riis,  whether  you  want  to  make  the  breach  incurable?  Is  a 
conciliation  between  the  two  young  people  to  be  rendered 
impossible? 

MRS.  Rus.  It  is  impossible. 

NORDAN.  Why? 

MRS.  Rus.  Because  all  confidence  is  gone. 

NORDAN.  Now  any  more  than  before? 

MRS.  Rus.  Yes,  for  I  must  confess  that  until  yesterday, 
when  Alf's  word  of  honour  was  offered — and  until  he  himself 
demanded  that  he  be  trusted  on  his  word  of  honour — until 
then  I  had  not  recognised  my  own  story.  And  yet,  that's 
what  it  was — word  for  word  I  That's  the  way  we  began! 
Who  can  guarantee  that  the  sequel  will  not  be  the  same? 

CHRISTENSEN.  My  son's  character  is  a  guarantee  of  that, 
madam. 

MRS.  Rus.  Character? — Yes,  you  think  that  a  character 
is  developed  by  following  secret,  lawless  ways  from  youth  up ! 
But  that  is  the  way  to  develop  faithlessness.  And  those  who 
complain  that  real  characters  are  so  rare,  should  seek  the 
cause  right  here,  I  think. 

CHRISTENSEN.  It  is  not  one's  youth  that  determines  the 
matter.  What  settles  it  is  how  one  marries. 


84  THE    GAUNTLET        ACT  in.    sc.  n 

MRS.  Rns.  Why  should  faithlessness  cease  with  marriage? 
Can  you  tell  me  that? 

CHBISTENSEN.  Because  then  there  is  love. 

MRS.  Rus.  Then  there  is  love?  As  if  there  had  been  no 
love  before! — It  is  just  in  this  respect  that  the  men  have  fos- 
tered a  complete  delusion.  No,  love  cannot  bring  lasting 
faith  when  the  will  itself  is  impaired.  And  it  is.  Impaired 
through  the  life  the  bachelor  leads. 

CHRISTENSEN.  And  yet  I  know  very  sensual  men  with 
strong  wills. 

MRS.  Rns.  I  am  not  talking  of  strong  wills,  but  of  clean 
ones.  Of  loyal  and  noble  wills. 

CHRISTENSEN.  If  my  son  is  to  be  condemned  by  that  kind 
of  nonsense,  then  I  praise  the  Lord  that  he  got  away  before 
it  was  too  late.  Yes,  I  do! — And  this  will  be  enough! 

[Starts  to  go. 

MRS.  Rns.  As  to  your  son — ?  Doctor,  tell  me — and  so 
that  his  father  may  hear  it  before  he  leaves — that  time  when 
you  refused  to  come  to  the  engagement  party,  had  you  already 
heard  something  about  Alf  Christensen?  And  was  what  you 
had  heard  of  such  a  nature  that  you  couldn't  trust  him? 

NORDAN.  [After  a  moment's  hesitation]  No,  not  exactly! 

MRS.  Rns.  Do  you  hear  that? — But  then  I  must  ask  you, 
doctor:  why  didn't  you  say  anything?  Why,  in  the  name  of 
God,  did  you  keep  silent? 

NORDAN.  Listen,  Mrs.  Riis;  when  two  young  people,  who 
at  bottom  suit  each  other — for  they  do,  don't  they? 

CHRISTENSEN.  Yes,  they  do — I  admit  that. 

NORDAN.  When  they  all  at  once  fall  insanely  in  love  with 
each  other — what  can  a  man  do? 

CHRISTENSEN.  Oh,  he  can  manufacture  stories,  exaggera- 
tions, scandals! 


Acrin.    sc.  n       THE   GAUNTLET  85 

NORDAN.  And  then  I  must  confess — as  I  think  I  have  said 
before — that  I  have  grown  accustomed  to  the  fact  that  things 
in  this  respect  are  not  as  they  should  be — I  looked  upon  this 
engagement  as  upon  others — as  upon  most  of  them — as  a 
lottery.  It  might  come  out  well;  it  might  turn  out  badly. 

MBS.  Rns.  And  my  daughter,  of  whom  you  are  fond — for 
I  know  you  are — her  you  would  stake  in  a  lottery!  Could 
anything  give  a  better  idea  of  how  matters  stand? 

NORDAN.  Yes,  there  is  something — for  you  yourself,  Mrs. 
Riis — what  did  you  do? 

MRS.  Rns.  I? 

CHRISTENSEN.  Good! 

NORDAN.  You  learned  also  what  Hoff  had  told — and  more 
besides. 

CHRISTENSEN  laughs  in  a  subdued  way. 

NORDAN.  And  yet  you  helped  your  husband — if  not  to 
make  Svava  overlook  the  whole  thing,  at  least  in  trying  to 
smooth  it  over. 

CHRISTENSEN.  Bravo! 

NORDAN.  And  you  called  me  in  to  assist  you  in  getting 
more  time. 

CHRISTENSEN.  In  matters  like  these,  you  know,  the  mothers 
distinguish  to  some  extent  between  theory  and  practice. 

NORDAN.  It  was  only  when  I  saw  Svava — how  deeply  she 
took  it,  and  how  she  had  come  to  fear  it — that  my  own  eyes 
were  opened.  And  I  listened  to  her  until  my  sympathy  be- 
came aroused.  I,  too,  was  young  once,  and  believed — and 
loved.  But  all  that  happened  so  long  ago.  And  I  have 
grown  so  tired 

MRS.  Rns.  [Who  in  the  meantime  has  seated  herself  at  DR. 
NORDAN'S  small  reading  table]  Oh,  God ! 

NORDAN.  Yes,  Mrs.  Riis,  let  me  be  quite  frank  about  it: 
it  is  just  the  mothers  who  have  gradually  blunted  my  feel- 


86  THE   GAUNTLET       ACTIH.    sc.  n 

ings.  Because  they  themselves  don't  seem  to  care. — And  as 
a  rule  they  are  perfectly  aware  of  what  they  are  dealing 
with. 

CHRISTENSEN.  They  are,  my  dear  fellow,  they  are!  And 
Mrs.  Riis  is  no  exception.  For  you  must  admit,  madam, 
that  you,  in  your  time,  did  your  best  to  hang  on  to  a  young 
man  with  a  pretty  lively  past ! — And  for  that  matter,  he  held 
a  fine  position  socially,  that  young  man — something  I  men- 
tion quite  incidentally. 

NORDAN.  Oh,  well,  well ! — But  no  sooner  have  the  daughters 
a  chance  to  make  what  their  mothers  call  a  "good  marriage," 
than  the  old  ones  forget  their  own  sufferings. 

MRS.  RIIS.  But  we  don't  know  that  it  is  the  same  thing 
over  again. 

NORDAN.  You  don't  know? 

MRS.  RIIS.  I  tell  you  that  I  didn't  realise  it.  We  always 
believe  that  the  men  chosen  by  our  daughters  are  so  much 
better.  We  believe  the  guarantees  to  be  better,  the  condi- 
tions to  be  changed.  And  it  is  so !  It  is  a  sort  of  mirage  that 
deludes  us. 

CHRISTENSEN.  Through  the  expectation  of  a  good  marriage 
— yes!  I  quite  agree  with  you,  madam,  for  the  first  time. 
Otherwise  I  have  an  idea  that  all  this  proves  something  else, 
too.  Perhaps,  after  all,  the  women  don't  suffer  so  much  by 
the  fact  that  men  are  men?  How  is  that?  Perhaps  the 
trouble  is  more  violent  than  deep-going — something  like  sea- 
sickness? When  it's  over — well,  then  it  is  over.  And  when 
the  time  comes  for  the  daughters  to  board  the  ship,  their 
dear  mammas  think:  oh,  well,  they'll  bear  it  as  we  did. 
Only  get  them  started!  For  they  want  so  badly  to  see  them 
started — that's  the  whole  trouble! 

MRS.  RIIS.  [As  she  gets  up  and  moves  toward  the  foreground] 
Well,  if  it  be  so,  then  it  is  nothing  to  laugh  at!  For  then  it 


Acrra.    sc.  n       THE   GAUNTLET  87 

proves  to  what  depth  a  woman  may  sink  through  her  life 
in  common  with  a  man. 

CHRISTENSEN.  Well,  I'll ! 

MRS.  Rus.  Yes,  for  every  new  generation  of  women  comes 
with  a  stronger  and  stronger  demand  for  a  decent  life.  The 
mere  sense  of  motherhood  is  enough  to  develop  that  demand. 
It  is  meant  for  a  protection  to  those  that  cannot  protect 
themselves.  Even  bad  mothers  have  the  feeling  of  it.  And 
if,  nevertheless,  they  surrender,  and  if  each  new  generation 
of  women  sinks  as  deeply  in  marriage  as  you  say,  then  this 
must  be  caused  by  the  special  privilege  which  man  asserts. 
For  it  is  this  privilege  which  has  developed  him. 

CHRISTENSEN.  Which  special  privilege? 

MRS.  Rus.  That  of  living  as  he  pleases  while  still  unmar- 
ried, and  of  being  taken  on  his  word  of  honour  when  he  chooses 
to  enter  marriage.  As  long  as  woman  cannot  stop  this  dread- 
ful privilege,  or  make  herself  independent  of  it — so  long  will 
one  half  of  mankind  remain  a  victim  of  the  other  half — of  that 
other  half's  lack  of  self-control.  This  one  privilege  has  proved 
itself  stronger  than  all  the  work  ever  done  for  freedom  on 
this  earth.  And  that  is  nothing  to  laugh  at. 

CHRISTENSEN.  You  are  dreaming  of  another  world  than 
ours,  madam,  and  of  natures  different  from  ours.  And,  of 
course — if  you  pardon  me! — therein  lies  the  only  answer 
needed. 

MRS.  Rns.  Why  don't  you  then  give  the  same  answer  in 
public?  Why  don't  you  step  forth  into  full  daylight  and 
acknowledge  your  views? 

CHRISTENSEN.  Are  we  not  doing  so? 

MRS.  Rus.  No — not  in  this  country.  On  the  contrary! 
For  publicly  you  place  yourself  under  our  flag,  while  secretly 
you  desert  it.  Why  have  you  not  the  courage  to  unfold  a 
flag  of  your  own?  Let  those  bachelor  habits  be  established 


88  THE    GAUNTLET        ACT  in.     sc.  n 

as  quite  proper!  Then  the  fight  will  begin  at  last.  And  then 
each  innocent  bride  may  at  last  know  where  she  is  going—- 
and in  what  capacity. 

NORDAN.  That  means  the  abolition  of  marriage — nothing 
more  or  less. 

MRS.  Rus.  Well,  wouldn't  that  be  better?  For  now  it's 
being  destroyed — long  before  it  is  begun! 

CHRISTENSEN.  Yes,  and  the  man  is  at  fault,  of  course. 
That's  the  fashion  nowadays.  It's  part  of  the  "work  of 
emancipation."  His  authority  must  go! 

MRS.  Rns.  The  one  he  has  gained  during  his  life  as  bachelor. 

NORDAN.  Ha,  ha! 

MRS.  Rns.  Don't  let  us  cover  up  the  thing  with  phrases. 
Let  us  rather  speak  of  what  the  poet  has  called  "the  blight- 
ing of  the  hearth."  For  what  it  means  is  just  blighted  mar- 
riages. And  whence  does  it  spring — this  chilling,  gruesome 
materialism,  this  pleasure-craving  brutality?  Where  does  it 
come  from? — I  might  describe  something  that  lies  still  nearer 
at  hand.  But  I  won't.  I  shall  not  even  mention  the  preva- 
lent family  diseases. — But  drag  it  out  into  the  open!  Per- 
haps then  it  will  break  into  flames,  too.  And  our  consciences 
will  be  smitten  by  it!  And  it  will  become  the  most  important 
matter  of  all  in  every  home !  This  is  what  is  wanted ! 

CHRISTENSEN.  Now  we  have  worked  ourselves  up  to  such 
an  elevation  that  it  doesn't  sound  impressive  at  all  when  I 
say  that  I  am  expected  in  certain  "very  exalted"  quarters. 
But  nevertheless  you'll  have  to  excuse  me. 

MRS.  Rns.  I  hope  I  haven't  delayed  you. 

CHRISTENSEN.  No,  there  is  plenty  of  time.  I  am  only 
longing — please,  don't  take  it  badly — to  get  away  from  here. 

MRS.  Rns.  To  your — equals? 

CHRISTENSEN.  I  am  glad  you  remind  me  of  them.    It 


ACT  in.    sc.  n       THE    GAUNTLET  89 

makes  me  realise  that  I  shall  probably  not  have  to  meet  you 
or  yours  any  more? 

MRS.  Rns.  No,  you  have  received  your  dismissal  from  us. 

CHRISTENSEN.  Well,  thank  heaven!  Now  I  only  hope  to 
be  able  to  distribute  the  ridicule  in  accordance  with  justice. 

MRS.  Rns.  To  do  so,  you  need  only  publish  your  auto- 
biography. 

CHRISTENSEN.  No,  rather  your  family  principles,  madam! 
For  they  are  really  too  funny  for  anything.  And  when  I  de- 
scribe the  way  they  are  put  into  practice  within  the  family 
itself,  I  have  reason  to  think  that  people  will  laugh  rather 
heartily.  Or  to  speak  seriously:  I'll  get  after  your  husband 
in  his  reputation  and  in  his  business,  until  he  has  to  leave  the 
city.  I  am  not  going  to  accept  a  humiliation  like  this  with- 
out paying  back  in  equal  coin.  [Starts  to  leave. 

NORDAN.  But  this  is  revolting! 

ALF.  [Appears  in  the  doorway  of  the  house}  Father! 

CHRISTENSEN.  You  here? — And  how  badly  you  look! 
Where  have  you  been,  my  boy? 

ALF.  I  got  here  just  ahead  of  you,  and  I  have  heard  every- 
thing. I  may  as  well  tell  you  at  once,  that  if  you  begin  that 
kind  of  warfare,  then  I'll  go  around  everywhere  telling  why 
Miss  Riis  broke  her  engagement  with  me. — I'll  tell  it  just  as 
it  is. — Yes,  you  can  sneer  at  me  as  much  as  you  please.  But 
I'll  do  it.  And  I  shall  begin  at  once. 

CHRISTENSEN.  I  think  you  can  save  yourself  the  trouble. 
After  the  breach  your  reputation  will  probably  travel  a  great 
deal  more  quickly  than  yourself. 

NORDAN.  [Goes  over  to  ALF]  To  be  plain,  Alf :  do  you  still 
love  her? 

ALF.  You  ask  because  you  think  she  has  wronged  me? 
But  now  I  understand  why  she  did  it — and  why  she  had  to 
do  it.  Now  I  understand! 


90  THE   GAUNTLET       ACT  in.    sc.  n 

CHRISTENSEN.  And  forgive  her?     Without  further  ado? 

ALF.  I  love  her  more  than  ever — and  no  matter  what  she 
thinks  of  me. 

CHRISTENSEN.  Well,  well,  well! — Then  there  is  nothing 
more  to  say  about  it.  You  insist  on  your  right  to  play  the 
part  of  lover — and  to  us  self-respecting  people  you  leave 
nothing  but  to  grin  and  bear  your  bad  acting  as  we  may  best. 
— I  suppose  you'll  go  right  over  and  pay  your  duty  call  on 
account  of  yesterday's  festivities?  And  ask  for  a  respite  till 
to-morrow?  While,  with  as  much  haste  as  propriety  will 
permit,  you  hurry  through  some  kind  of  purgatory?  May  I 
ask  the  location  of  that  institution  and  its  methods? — No, 
my  boy,  don't  get  melodramatic!  When  you  can  stand  what 
you  got  from  that  little  Riis  girl  yesterday  and  from  her 
mother  to-day,  then  you  can  also  stand  a  few  gibes  and  prods 
from  your  own  father.  I  have  had  to  stand  the  whole  engage- 
ment, and  the  breach,  too!  And  being  sprinkled  with  moral 
waters  on  top  of  it!  Oh,  damn  it  all!  I  hope  I  don't  stink 
of  the  thing  when  I  get  up  to  the  palace!  [He  goes  toward  the 
house.  In  the  doorway  he  turns  about  for  a  moment]  Your 
travelling  money  will  be  waiting  for  you  at  the  office.  [Goes  out. 

NORDAN.  Does  that  mean  another  exile? 

ALT.  Of  course!  [He  shows  great  excitement. 

MRS.  RIIS.  Now  you'll  have  to  come  over  with  me,  doctor, 
and  that  at  once! 

NORDAN.  How  is  she  taking  it? 

MRS.  RIIS.  I  don't  know. 

NORDAN.  You  don't  know? 

MRS.  Rns.  Yesterday  she  wanted  to  be  alone.  This  morn- 
ing she  left  the  house  very  early. 

NORDAN.  Then  something  must  have  happened? 

MRS.  RIIS.  Yes.  You  said  yesterday  that  you  had  given 
her  a  hint  about — about  her  father. 


ACT  iii.    sc.n       THE   GAUNTLET  91 

NORDAN.  And  then? 

MRS.  Rus.  Then  I  felt  that  the  time  to  keep  silent  was 
over. 

NORDAN.  And  you ? 

MRS.  Rus.  I  have  written  to  her. 

NORDAN.  Written? 

MRS.  Rus.  It  came  more  naturally.  Then  we  didn't  have 
to  talk  it  over.  I  wrote,  and  tore  up — and  wrote  again. 
The  whole  afternoon  yesterday  and  all  night.  Wrote! 
There  wasn't  much  of  it.  But  it  came  hard. 

NORDAN.  And  now  she  has  got  it? 

MRS.  Rus.  This  morning,  when  she  had  eaten  and  was 
starting  out,  I  sent  it  after  her. — And  now,  dearest  friend,  I 
want  you  to  come  and  talk  to  her.  And  then  you  tell  me 
when  I  can  come.  For  I  am  afraid !  [She  covers  up  her  face. 

NORDAN.  I  saw,  the  moment  you  came  in,  that  something 
important  had  happened.  And  you  were  so  hot-headed! — 
Good  God,  how  this  thing  has  spread  and  grown! 

MRS.  Rus.  You  shouldn't  go  away,  doctor!  Don't  go 
away  from  her  now! 

NORDAN.  Oh,  that's  what  it  was! — Thomas! 

SERVANT.  Yes,  sir! 

NORDAN.  You  don't  have  to  pack. 

SERVANT.  Not  pack! — Your  stick,  sir! 

[Handing  NORDAN  his  walking-stick. 

NORDAN.  Will  you  take  my  arm,  madam? 
The  SERVANT  opens  the  door  for  them. 

ALT.  [Stepping  forward]  Mrs.  Riis! — Will  you  let  me  speak 
to  her? 

MRS.  Rus.  Speak  to  her? — Oh,  that's  out  of  the  question! 

NORDAN.  Why,  you  heard  yourself  what  she  has  to  think 
of  to-day. 


92  THE    GAUNTLET        ACT  in.    sc.  n 

MRS.  Rns.  And  if  she  didn't  want  to  speak  to  you  before, 
she  certainly  will  not  do  so  now. 

ALF.  When  she  asks  for  permission  to  see  me,  will  you  then 
tell  her  that  I  am  here?  And  I'll  stay  here  till  she  asks! 

MRS.  Rns.  But  what's  the  use  of  it? 

ALF.  Well,  that's  our  concern.  I  know  that  she  wants 
to  speak  to  me. — Just  tell  her  that  I  am  here!  That's  all 
that's  needed !  [He  walks  away  and  disappears  in  the  garden. 

NORDAN.  He  doesn't  know  what  he  is  saying. 

MRS.  Rns.  Let  us  be  going,  doctor — I  am  afraid ! 

NORDAN.  And  so  am  I ! — Hm — so  now  she  knows  that ! 

[They  go  out. 


ACT   IV 

Same  room  as  in  the  first  two  acts. 
FIRST    SCENE 

SVAVA.      DR.    NORDAN. 

SVAVA  comes  in,  walking  very  slowly  ;  looks  around  the 
room  ;  goes  up  to  the  door  and  steps  outside  for  a  mo- 
ment; comes  back  into  the  room;  when  she  turns  around 
again,  DR.  NORDAN  is  standing  in  the  doorway. 

SVAVA.  Is  that  you — ?     Oh,  Uncle  Nordan !          [She  sobs. 

NORDAN.  My  'dear — dear  little  girl !    Now  be  brave ! 

SVAVA.  But  haven't  you  seen  mother?  They  said  she  had 
gone  over  to  you? 

NORDAN.  She  will  be  here  in  a  moment. — But,  do  you 
know — we  two  ought  to  take  a  long  walk  instead  of  talking 
with  your  mother  or  anybody  else.  A  long,  quiet  walk? 
What  do  you  say? 

SVAVA.  No,  I  cannot  do  that. 

NORDAN.  Why? 

SVAVA.  Because  I  must  get  through  with  it. 

NORDAN.  What  do  you  mean? 

SVAVA.  [Paying  no  attention  to  his  question]  Uncle 

NORDAN.  Yes. 

SVAVA.  Does  Alf  know  this?    Did  he,  too,  know  it? 

NORDAN.  Yes. 

SVAVA.  Of  course,  everybody  but  me.  Oh,  I  have  such  a 
longing  to  hide  myself — hide  myself!  And  that's  what  I  am 
going  to  do. — Now  I  can  see  things  as  they  are.  There  is  a 

93 


94  THE   GAUNTLET        ACT  iv.    sc.  i 

big  mountain  against  which  I  have  put  my  hands  to  push  it 
away.  And  the  others  have  stood  around  laughing  at  me. 
— But  I  want  to  speak  with  Alf. 

NORDAN.  With  Alf? 

SVAVA.  I  behaved  very  unwisely  yesterday.  I  should 
never  have  gone  in.  But  you  just  carried  me  along.  I  hardly 
knew  that  I  went  with  you. 

NORDAN.  Then  it  was  that  about  your  father — what  I  said 
about  your  father — that 

SVAVA.  I  didn't  understand  at  once.  But  when  I  was  alone 
— mother's  peculiar  anxiety,  my  father's  threat  to  leave  the 
country,  all  sorts  of  remarks  and  symptoms — so  many,  many 
things  that  I  had  not  understood,  or  hardly  even  noticed — 
and  all  at  once — they  were  there! — I  pushed  the  thing  away 
from  me,  and  it  came  back. — It  came  back,  and  it  came  back! 
— And  then  it  was  as  if  every  limb  of  mine  had  been  lamed. 
— When  you  took  hold  of  my  arm  and  said,  now  you  must 
come  in — at  that  moment  I  could  hardly  think  at  all.  Every- 
thing was  in  a  whirl! 

NORDAN.  Well,  I  acted  like  a  big  fool — and  twice  in  succes- 
sion at  that! 

SVAVA.  No,  it  was  better.  Much  better.  Of  course,  it 
didn't  come  about  in  the  right  way.  I  must  speak  to  Alf. 
For  it  mustn't  remain  that  way. — But  otherwise  it  was  bet- 
ter. And  now  I  must  get  through  with  it. 

NORDAN.  What  do  you  mean  by  that? 

SVAVA.  Where  is  mother? 

NORDAN.  My  dear  girl,  you  shouldn't  do  anything  to-day. 
Better  not  speak  to  anybody  at  all.  If  you  do — well,  I  don't 
know  what  may  happen. 

SVAVA.  But  I  know. — Yes,  it's  of  no  use! — You  think  I  am 
all  nerves  to-day?  Well,  so  I  am.  But  if  you  oppose  me,  it 
will  only  get  worse. 


ACT  iv.    sc.n       THE   GAUNTLET  95 


NORDAN.  I  don't  oppose  you  either.     All  I  want- 


SVAVA.  Yes,  yes,  yes! — But  where  is  mother? — And  you 
have  to  get  hold  of  Alf !  I  couldn't  go  to  him — could  I?  Or 
do  you  think  he  is  too  proud  to  come  here  after  what  happened 
yesterday?  Oh,  no,  that  isn't  like  Alf!  And  tell  him  that  he 
must  not  be  too  proud  toward  one  who  has  been  so  humiliated. 

[She  cries. 

NORDAN.  But  do  you  really  think  you  can ? 

SVAVA.  Oh,  you  don't  know  what  I  can  do.  Only  I  must 
get  through  with  this.  For  it  has  lasted  long  enough  now. 

NORDAN.  I  have  to  ask  your  mother,  then ? 

SVAVA.  Yes — and  Alf? 

NORDAN.  Yes,  after  a  while.    But  if  you 

SVAVA.  No — no  "but!" 

NORDAN.  And  if  you  need  me,  I  shall  not  go  away  until 
you  are  "through,"  as  you  call  it. 

SVAVA  runs  up  to  him  and  puts  her  arms  around  him. 
DR.  NORDAN  goes  out. 


SECOND    SCENE 
SVAVA.    A  little  later  MRS.  Rns. 

MRS.  Rns.  [Approaching  SVAVA]  My  child !        [Stops  still. 

SVAVA.  Yes,  mother,  I  cannot  meet  you — my  whole  body 
is  shaking.  And  don't  you  know  what  it  is?  Has  it  not 
occurred  to  you  that  you  cannot  treat  me  like  that? 

MRS.  Rns.  Treat  you,  Svava? 

SVAVA.  Heavens,  mother!  That  you  let  me  live  day  after 
day,  year  after  year — without  letting  me  know  what  kind  of 
thing  I  was  living  with?  To  let  me  preach  the  most  extreme 
principles  in  a  house  like  ours? 


96  THE   GAUNTLET       ACT  iv.    sc.  n 

MRS.  Rus.  But  you  didn't  want  me  to  tell  my  own  child 
that ? 

SVAVA.  Not  while  I  was  still  a  child!  But  when  I  grew 
up?  Yes,  by  all  means!  Hadn't  I  a  right  to  choose  whether 
or  no  I  wanted  to  stay  in  such  a  home?  Hadn't  I  a  right 
to  know  what  is  known  to  everybody  else — or  what  they 
might  learn  at  any  minute? 

MRS.  Rus.  I  have  never  thought  of  it  in  that  way. 

SVAVA.  Never  thought  of  it  in  that  way?    Mother! 

MRS.  Rus.  Never!  To  spare  you;  to  keep  peace  in  our 
home — while  you  were  a  child;  and  later,  to  let  nothing  inter- 
fere with  your  studies,  your  interests,  your  pleasures — for  you 
are  not  like  others,  Svava! — to  do  that  I  have  watched  with 
the  utmost  care  lest  any  such  knowledge  reach  you .  I  thought 
it  my  duty!  You  have  no  idea  of  how  far  I  have  stooped  in 
order  to — for  your  sake,  child! 

SVAVA.  But  you  had  no  right  to  do  so,  mother! 

MRS.  Rus.  No  right ? 

SVAVA.  No!  For  when  you  lowered  yourself  for  my  sake, 
you  lowered  me,  too! 

MRS.  Rus.  [Deeply  moved]  Good  God,  Svava ! 

SVAVA.  Why,  I  am  not  reproaching  you,  mother! — Dear 
mother,  I  wouldn't  do  that  for  anything  in  the  world! — It 
only  makes  me  so  inexpressibly  sad,  so  shocked — for  your 
sake — that  you  could  be  carrying  within  you  such  a  secret! 
Never  for  a  moment  dare  to  be  yourself  with  me!  Always 
something  to  hide!  And  that  you  could  hear  me  praise  what 
was  not  worthy  of  praise — that  you  could  see  me  trust — 
could  see  me  give  my  love  to — oh,  mother,  mother,  mother! 

MRS.  Rus.  Yes,  I  have  felt  it  that  way  myself.  Oh,  yes! 
A  thousand  times!  But  I  didn't  think  I  could  dare!  Oh,  it 
was  wrong — wrong!  Now  I  see!  But  would  you  have  had 
me  go  my  own  way  the  moment  I  myself  found  out? 


ACT  iv.    sc.  n       THE   GAUNTLET  97 

SVAVA.  That's  more  than  I  dare  to  answer.  You  have 
settled  that  yourself.  Every  one  must  settle  that — in  accord- 
ance with  her  own  strength  and  the  strength  of  her  love. 
But  when  it  kept  on  until  I  was  grown  up — !  And  that's 
the  reason,  of  course,  why  I  made  a  second  mistake!  I  was 
brought  up  to  be  mistaken. 

Rus  is  heard  humming  a  song  as  he  approaches  from  the 
left. 

MRS.  Rus.  Merciful  heavens,  there  he  is! 

Rns.  [Is  seen  passing  the  left-hand  window  in  the  background, 
but  at  the  door  he  stops  and  exclaims]  Oh,  that's  right! 

[Then  he  turns  and  walks  away  hurriedly. 

MRS.  Rus.  But,  child,  what  a  changed  look  came  over 
you!  Svava,  you  frighten  me!  You  cannot  mean  to 

SVAVA.  But  what  have  you  been  thinking,  mother? 

MRS.  Rus.  That  I  have  stood  so  much  for  your  sake,  that 
you,  perhaps,  might  stand  a  little  for  my  sake. 

SVAVA.  Of  this?    Not  in  the  least! 

MRS.  Rus.  But  what  do  you  want  to  do? 

SVAVA.  Go  away  from  here,  of  course! 

MRS.  Rus.  [Utters  a  cry]  — Then  I  go  with  you! 

SVAVA.  You?     Go  away  from  father? 

MRS.  Rus.  It  is  for  your  sake  I  have  stayed  with  him. 
Without  you,  not  a  single  day —  Oh,  you  don't  want  me! 

SVAVA.  Mother,  dear! — I  must  get  accustomed  to  all  that's 
new  to  me.  Even  you  seem  new  to  me.  And,  of  course,  I 
have  been  mistaken  about  you  also. — I  must  be  by  myself. — 
Oh,  now,  don't  get  so  miserable! 

MRS.  Rus.  This  on  top  of  all!  0  God,  this  on  top  of  the 
rest! 

SVAVA.  Mother  dear — I  cannot  do  otherwise.  Now  I  shall 
give  myself  wholly  to  my  kindergartens.  I  must,  I  must! 


98  THE^  GAUNTLET      ACT  iv.    sc.  m 

And  if  I  am  not  permitted  to  be  alone,  I  shall  go  still  farther 

away. 

MRS.  Rus.  This  is  the  worst  of  all!     This  is  the  worst! — 

There   I  hear — yes,   it's   him!    Don't  say   anything   now! 

More  than  this  I  cannot  endure!    Not  all  at  once! — Try  to 

be  kind,  Svava!    Do  you  hear? 

Humming  as  before,  Rus  comes  again,  but  now  with  an 
overcoat  carried  over  his  arm.  SVAVA  rushes  toward 
the  foreground;  after  a  moment's  wavering,  she  sits 
down  far  over  to  the  left,  with  her  back  turned  toward 
the  centre  of  the  room  so  that  she  appears  in  half  profile 
to  the  audience;  she  looks  nervously  for  something  with 
which  she  can  seem  occupied. 


THIRD    SCENE 
SVAVA.    MRS.  Rus.    Rus.    Later  ALT. 

Rus.  [Puts  the  overcoat  on  a  chair;  he  is  in  full  dress  and 
wears  the  badge  of  St.  Olav]  Good  morning,  ladies,  good  morn- 
ing! 

MRS.  Rus.  Good  morning. 

Rus.  First  big  news  item :  with  whom  did  I  drive  from  the 
palace? — Christensen ! 

MRS.  Rus.  Really? 

Rus.  The  thundering  Jove  of  yesterday — exactly!  With 
him  and  my  brother  the  Director-General.  And  I  was  the 
first  one  he  shook  hands  with  when  he  arrived  at  the  palace. 
He  made  conversation  with  me,  he  introduced  me  to  people 
— a  regular  exhibition  it  was! 

MRS.  Rus.  Well! 

Rus.  Of  course,  nothing  happened  yesterday.  Nowhere 
in  the  world  was  any  gauntlet  thrown— least  of  all  in  the  face 


ACT  iv.    sc.ra      THE   GAUNTLET  99 

of  his  first-born!  Christensen,  the  worshipful  Knight  Com- 
mander of  to-day's  make,  has  a  longing  for  peace.  In  the 
end  we  had  a  glass  of  champagne  together  at  my  brother's. 

MRS.  Rus.  That  was  very  nice. 

Rns.  Therefore:  be  in  good  spirits,  ladies!  Nothing  has 
happened.  Absolutely  nothing.  We'll  begin  the  feast  all 
over  again,  with  a  fresh,  clean  table-cloth,  on  which  not  a 
single  drop  has  been  spilled. 

MRS.  Rns.  That's  very  fortunate. 

Rns.  Yes,  isn't  it?  Our  dear  daughter's  rather  violent 
discharge  of  electricity  has  relieved  her  own  mind  and  cleared 
up  the  ideas  of  other  people — the  air  is  now  agreeably  refresh- 
ing, not  to  say  fecund. 

MRS.  Rns.  And  at  the  palace?    How  was  it? 

Rns.  Well,  my  dear — looking  around  at  our  little  group 
of  fresh-baked  worthies,  I  dared  not  persuade  myself  that 
virtue  is  the  thing  rewarded  in  this  world.  However,  some 
sort  of  solemn  proclamation  was  spread  before  us.  There 
was  something  we  should  save — it  must  have  been  the  State, 
now  I  think  of  it — or  perhaps  it  was  the  Church?  Well,  I 
don't  know,  for  I  didn't  read  it.  But  everybody  signed. 

MRS.  Rns.  You  also? 

Rns.  I  also!  Why  not  keep  in  good  company?  Up  there, 
on  life's  mountain  tops,  one  gets  a  more  pleasing,  a  more  un- 
trammelled view  of  life.  Up  there,  all  are  friends.  They 
came  and  congratulated  me — and  in  the  end  I  couldn't  make 
out  whether  it  was  on  my  own  behalf  or  that  of  my  daughter. 
Nor  did  I  know  that  I  had  so  many  friends  here  in  the  city, 
not  to  say  at  Court.  But  in  such  glorious  company,  and  in 
an  atmosphere  laden  with  praise  and  flattery  and  pleasantries, 
what's  the  use  of  examining  things  too  closely?  And  then, 
nothing  but  men,  just  men!  There  is  after  all — if  the  ladies 
will  pardon  me — something  charming  at  times  to  be  sur- 


100  THE   GAUNTLET      ACT  iv.    sc.  ra 

rounded  only  by  men,  by  men  in  a  festive  mood.  The  con- 
versation becomes  a  little  more  highly  spiced,  more  to  the 
point,  more  full-blooded,  and  the  laughter  much  more  hearty. 
One  understands  one  another  almost  before  the  word  is 
spoken. 

MRS.  Rus.  You  seem  very  happy  to-day? 

Rus.  Yes,  so  I  am,  and  no  mistake!  And  I  should  like 
everybody  else  to  be  happy  also.  Of  course,  life  could  be  a 
great  deal  better;  but  when  you  see  it  from  those  heights, 
you  know  also  that  it  might  be  much  worse.  And  as  far  as 
we  men  are  concerned — well,  we  have  our  faults.  But  at 
bottom  we  are  awfully  amusing.  And  I  bet  you,  life  would 
be  pretty  tedious  without  us. — Let  us  then  take  life  as  it  is, 
my  dear,  darling  Svava!  [As  he  goes  toward  her,  she  rises] 
What  is  this?  Are  you  still  in  a  bad  humour?  After  having 
slapped  him  in  the  face  with  your  own  glove,  and  in  full 
family  council  at  that?  Can  you  reasonably  ask  more  of  life? 
I  think  you  ought  to  be  laughing  aloud —  Or  is  something 
the  matter?  What?  Oh,  what  is  it  now  again? 

MBS.  Rus.  It  is 

Ens.  It  is ? 

MRS.  Rus.  Oh,  it  is —    Alf  will  be  here  in  a  moment! 

Rus.  Here?  Alf?  In  a  moment?  Hooray!  Then  I  un- 
derstand! But  why  didn't  you  tell  me  at  once? 

MRS.  Rus.  You  have  been  talking  ever  since  you  came  iix 

Rus.  Yes,  I  think  I  have!  Well,  even  if  you  take  it  seri- 
ously, my  dear  Svava,  I  hope  you  won't  object  to  your 
"noble"  papa  taking  it  humorously?  For  it  does  amuse 
me  extremely.  My  spirits  went  up  the  moment  I  guessed 
from  Christensen's  manner  that  everything  was  all  right. 
And  now  Alf  will  be  here  in  a  moment?  Then  I  understand 
everything.  Once  more:  hooray!  Why,  this  is  after  all  the 
finest  thing  that  has  happened  so  far  to-day !  I  feel  as  if  I 


ACT  iv.    so.  iii      THE  GAUNTLET  101 

simply  had  to  accompany  his  entrance  with  a  triumphal  over- 
ture. [He  goes  humming  toward  the  piano. 

MRS.  Rus.  Oh,  no,  dear!    Please,  don't! 

Rus  begins  to  play  as  if  he  didn't  hear  her;  MBS.  Rus 
goes  over  to  him  and  stops  him,  pointing  at  the  same 
time  to  SVAVA. 

SVAVA.  Let  him  play!  Just  let  him  play,  dear!  This  inno- 
cent gaiety  which  has  amused  me  ever  since  I  was  a  child — 
[She  breaks  into  tears,  but  checks  herself  quickly}  Disgusting! 
Horrible! 

Rus.  You  look  as  if  you  wanted  to  throw  more  gloves 
to-day.  So  it  isn't  over  yet? 

SVAVA.  No,  it  isn't. 

Rus.  Perhaps  you  want  to  borrow  mine,  if  your  own 
shouldn't 

MBS.  Rus.  No — not  that  way! 

SVAVA.  Yes,  that  way,  too.  Let  him  mock  at  us!  One 
possessing  his  moral  resolution  ought  to  mock  at  us. 

Rus.  What  do  you  mean  by  that?  Do  you  call  it  lack  of 
moral  resolution  that  I  don't  care  for  old  maids  or  sour-faced 
virtue? 

SVAVA.  Father — you  are ! 

MBS.  Rus.  Oh,  Svava! 

Rus.  No,  let  her  finish!  It  is  quite  a  novel  sensation  to 
see  a  well-bred  girl  throw  gloves  in  the  face  of  her  fiance  and 
innuendoes  in  the  face  of  her  father!- — Especially  when  it  is 
done  for  morality's  sake! 

SVAVA.  Don't  mention  morality!    Or  do  so  to  Mrs.  North! 

Rus.  Mrs. — Mrs. —     What  has  she  got ? 

SVAVA.  Oh,  be  quiet!    I  know  everything  you  have 

MBS.  Rns.  Svava! 

SVAVA.  That's  right! — For  mother's  sake  we'll  go  no  fur- 
ther!— But  when,  yesterday,  I  threw  that  glove  of  which  you 


102  THE   GAUNTLET      ACTIV.    sc.  m 

have  so  much  to  say,  I  knew  this.  And  that's  why  I  did  it! 
It  was  meant  for  everything  of  this  kind,  for  the  beginning 
and  the  continuation,  for  him  and  for  you!  Then  I  under- 
stood your  righteous  zeal  in  this  matter — as  well  as  the  moral 
indignation  which  you  showed  and  voiced  to  mother. 

MRS.  RIIS.  Svava! 

SVAVA.  Oh,  that  politeness  of  yours,  that  concern  for 
mother  which  I  have  so  often  admired — and  your  jests,  your 
good-humour,  your  elegance — I  have  just  learned  what  it  all 
means! — No,  no,  I  can  no  longer  believe  in  anything!  Oh, 
it's  horrible,  horrible! 

MRS.  RIIS.  But,  Svava! 

SVAVA.  All  life  has  become  unclean  to  me.  The  nearest 
and  dearest  has  been  blackened.  And  for  that  reason  I  feel 
it  since  yesterday  as  if  I  had  been  made  an  outcast.  And 
what  else  am  I?  Cast  out  from  all  that  I  loved  and  treasured, 
and  this  without  any  fault  of  my  own!  And  yet,  what  I  feel 
most,  is  not  pain.  No,  it  is  humiliation,  shame.  All  that  I 
have  dared  to  say  is  now  turned  into  words  merely — and  all 
that  I  have  dared  to  do  on  my  own  behalf  is  nothing  but  big 
words — and  this  without  any  fault  of  my  own!  For  it  is 
your  fault! — I  thought  I  knew  something  about  life.  But  I 
was  to  learn  a  lot  more.  I  suppose  the  meaning  of  it  was  to 
make  me  stoop  so  low  that  at  last  I  should  fit  into  it. — Now, 
and  now  only,  has  it  become  clear  to  me  what  you  were 
teaching  me  all  the  time — while  you  appealed  to  God  and  to 
my  mother  for  support.  But  it  was  all  of  no  use! — It  is  a 
great  deal,  I  should  say,  to  live  through  the  thoughts  I  have 
had  to  face,  yesterday,  last  night,  to-day.  But  once  done,  it 
is  done  for  ever.  Afterward  there  is  nothing  that  can  sur- 
prise!— Oh,  that  a  man  has  the  heart  to  let  his  own  child  live 
through  such  a  thing ! 

MRS.  RIIS.  Look  at  your  father! 


ACT  iv.    sc.  m      THE   GAUNTLET  103 

SVAVA.  Yes — if  you  find  what  I  say  to  you  very  hard — 
then  remember  what  I  used  to  say  to  you.  Not  longer  ago 
than  yesterday  morning,  on  this  very  spot.  Then  you  have 
a  measure  of  what  I  have  thought  of  you,  father — and  of 
what,  because  of  it,  I  now  feel  in  here! — Oh ! 

Rus.  Svava! 

SVAVA.  You  have  ruined  my  home  for  me.  The  very 
memory  of  the  time  spent  in  it  is  spoiled.  And  I  cannot 
think  of  it  as  a  home  for  the  future  either. 

RIIS  and  MRS.  Rus.  But,  Svava! 

SVAVA.  No,  I  cannot!  All  sense  of  security  is  gone!  And 
then  it  is  no  longer  a  home.  Since  yesterday  I  am  a  tenant 
only. 

Rus.  My  child — don't  say  that! 

SVAVA.  Yes,  I  am  your  child.  You  have  only  to  say  it  as 
you  did  now,  and  I  feel  it  deeply.  And  all  we  have  lived  to- 
gether, we  two!  All  the  fun  we  have  had  on  our  travels;  all 
that  we  have  read  together,  played  together — now  it  cannot 
even  be  remembered — I  cannot  go  back  to  it  in  my  mind! 
And  that  is  why  I  cannot  stay  here! 

Rus.  You  cannot  stay  here? 

SVAVA.  No,  it  would  remind  me  of  too  many  things — all 
of  which  are  now  spoiled. 

MRS.  Rus.  And  you'll  see  that  it  is  just  as  hard  to  leave. 

RIIS.  But — 7  can  go! 

MRS.  RIIS.  You? 

Rus.  And  you  can  stay  here  with  your  mother.  But — 
Svava ? 

SVAVA.  No,  I  cannot  accept  that — no  matter  what  hap- 
pens  

RIIS.  Don't  say  anything  more!  I  beg  you,  Svava! 
Don't  make  me  too,  too  miserable!  Remember  that  not  un- 
til to-day —  Never  have  I  dreamt  of  making  you —  If  you 


104  THE   GAUNTLET      ACT  iv.    sc.  ra 

cannot  endure  me  any  longer — if  you  cannot — then  let  me 
go  away.  It  is  I — who  am  the  guilty  one.  Svava,  don't 
you  hear?  I,  not  you!  You  must  stay  here! 

MRS.  Rus.  Mercy,  there  is  Alf ! 

Rns.  Alf!  [Silence. 

ALF.  [Stops  in  the  doorway;  pause]  Perhaps  I  had  better 
leave  again ? 

Rns.  Leave  again? — Leave  again,  you  say? — By  no  means! 
Oh,  no ! — You  couldn't  come  more  conveniently !  Really,  you 
couldn't!  Dear  fellow — my  dear  fellow,  let  me  thank  you! 

MBS.  Rns.  [To  SVAVA]  Do  you  want  to  be  left  alone? 

SVAVA.  No,  no,  no! 

Rns.  You  want  to  speak  to  Svava,  do  you? — I  think  the 
most  proper  thing  I  can  do  is  to  retire.  You  two  ought  to 
have  a  chance  to  talk  it  out.  Be  by  yourselves.  Yes,  of 
course!  And  with  your  permission,  I'll  disappear.  You  don't 
mind?  I  have  really  some  very  important  business  in  the  city. 
You  must  pardon  me!  I  am  only  going  to  make  a  quick 
change.  Pardon!  [Goes  into  his  room. 

ALF.  Of  course,  I  can  come  some  other  time. 

MRS.  Rns.  But  you  want  badly  to  have  a  talk  with  her  at 
once? 

ALF.  There  can  be  no  question  here  of  what  I  want.  I  can 
see — and  Dr.  Nordan  told  me — that  Miss  Riis  has  been  under 
a  great  strain.  But  I  thought  it  my  duty  to  come  just  the 
same. 

SVAVA.  And  I  thank  you  for  it.  It  is  more — much  more 
than  I  have  deserved.  But  I  want  to  tell  you  at  once  that 
what  happened  yesterday — I  mean,  the  way  it  happened — 
the  reason  of  it  was  that  I  had  just  learned  something  I  had 
never  known  before.  And  all  was  mixed  in  my  mind. 

[She  can  no  longer  hide  her  emotion. 


ACT  iv.    sc.  iv      THE   GAUNTLET  105 

ALF.  I  knew  that  what  happened  yesterday — you  would 
regret  to-day.  I  know  how  kind  you  are.  And  in  that  lay 
my  one  hope  of  seeing  you  again. 

Rus.  [Comes  from  his  room,  having  partly  changed  his  dress] 
If  anybody  wants  anything  done  in  the  city — I'll  attend  to 
it — no?  I  have  thought  that  the  ladies  might  like  a  trip 
abroad.  How  does  it  strike  you?  When  one's  thoughts  are 
about  to  become — what  shall  I  say? — too  severe,  or  rather,  too 
heavy — it  offers  a  remarkable  diversion.  I  have  often  noticed 
it  myself.  Oh,  quite  often! — Think  it  over,  will  you? — I 
might  as  well  make  arrangements  at  once,  if  perchance — how 
about  it?  Well:  good-bye  for  a  while!  And  think  it  over! 
I  myself  think  it  would  be  fine. 

Goes  out  through  the  door  in  the  background  and  turns 

to  the  left. 

SVAVA  looks  smilingly  at  her  mother  for  a  moment;  then 
she  hides  her  face  in  her  hands. 

MRS.  Rns.  If  you  don't  mind  for  a  moment,  I  must 

SVAVA.  Mother! 

MRS.  Rns.  I  cannot  help  it,  child.   I  must  try  to  calm  down 
a  little.     And  I  shall  only  be  in  there.  [Pointing  toward  the 
room  on  the  left]  And  soon  I  shall  be  here  again.        [Goes  out. 
SVAVA  sinks  down  on  a  chair  by  the  table,  wholly  over- 
come by  her  emotion. 


FOURTH    SCENE 

SVAVA.    ALT. 

ALF.  Now  I  have  a  feeling  that  the  whole  matter  has  come 
back  to  us  two. 

SVAVA.  Yes 

ALT.  I  suppose  you  know  that  since  yesterday  I  have  done 


106  THE   GAUNTLET      ACT  iv.    sc.  iv 

nothing  but  make  up  speeches  to  you? — But  now  that  doesn't 
help  me  a  bit. 

SVAVA.  But  it  was  kind  of  you  to  come. 

ALF.  Let  me  then  ask  just  one  thing  of  you — but  that  one 
I  ask  with  my  whole  heart:  wait  for  me! — For  now  I  know 
what  road  leads  up  to  you.  We  had  laid  out  a  plan  of  life, 
we  two,  and  although  I  shall  be  alone  about  it  now — I  want 
to  carry  that  plan  through!  And  I  shall!  And  then,  per- 
haps, some  day,  when  you  see  how  faithful  I  have  been — ? 
I  have  been  ordered  not  to  bother  you,  and  least  of  all  to-day. 
But  let  me  have  an  answer — quietly,  very  quietly.  Won't 
you? 

SVAVA.  But  why? 

ALF.  I  need  it  to  live  on.  For  I  am  one  of  those  men  to 
whom  life  means  the  more  the  higher  hangs  the  prize. — An 
answer! 

SVAVA.  {Tries  to  speak,  but  bursts  into  tears]  You  see,  every- 
thing upsets  me  to-day.  I  cannot. — And  what  do  you  want? 
That  I  shall  wait?  What  does  it  mean?  To  be  through — 
and  yet  not  through;  try  to  forget — and  yet  build  up  new 
hope.  [Again  overcome  by  her  feelings]  No ! 

ALF.  I  can  see  that  you  ought  to  be  left  alone.  And  yet  it 
is  impossible  for  me  to  leave. 

SVAVA  rises  in  order  to  hide  her  emotion;  ALF  follows  her 
and  kneels  beside  her. 

ALF.  Only  a  word  for  me! 

SVAVA.  But  don't  you  understand,  then,  that  if  you  could 
once  more  give  me  the  joy  that  springs  from  nothing  but  com- 
plete trust — do  you  think  I  should  be  waiting  for  you  then? 
No,  I  would  come  and  thank  you  on  my  knees !  Can  you  for 
a  moment  doubt  that? 

ALT.  No,  no! 

SVAVA.  But  now  I  don't  have  it. 


ACT  iv.    BC.  iv      THE   GAUNTLET  107 

ALF.  Svava! 
SVAVA.  Oh,  please! 

ALF.  Good-bye! — Oh,  good-bye! — But  to  meet  again! — To 
meet  again!  [He  starts  to  leave  but  turns  back  at  the  door]  I 
must  have  a  sign.  A  sure  sign!  Hold  out  a  hand  to  me! 

SVAVA  turns  toward  him  and  holds  out  both  her  hands. 

ALF  goes  out. 

MRS.  Rus.  [Comes  through  the  door  on  the  left]  Did  you 
give  him  any  promise? 
SVAVA.  I  think  I  did! 

[She  hides  her  face  against  her  mother's  shoulder. 

Curtain. 


BEYOND  OUR  POWER 

(OVER   EVNE) 

THE  FIRST  OF  THE  TWO  PLAYS  OF  THIS  NAME 

1883 


PERSONS  IN  THE  PLAY 

PASTOR  ADOLPH  SANG 
CLARA  SANG,  his  wife 

ELIAS     1       .       . 

-.  \  their  twin  children 

RACHEL  j 

MRS.  HANNA  ROBERTS,  sister  of  Mrs.  Sang 

I  THE  STRANGER 

[BRATT,  a  minister 

KROYER,  a  minister 

THE  BISHOP 

BLANK 

BREY 

_.  ministers 

FALK 

JENSEN 

THE  OLD  WIDOW 
AGOT  FLORVAGEN 
SEVERAL  MINISTERS 


BEYOND   OUR  POWER 

(OVER   EVNE) 
ACT  I 

A  poorly  furnished  room  with  walls  of  crudely  dressed  logs.  In 
the  right  wall  is  a  window  in  two  parts  that  open  sepa- 
rately outward.  There  is  a  door  in  the  left  wall.  A  bed 
stands  near  the  middle  of  the  room,  a  little  to  the  right,  and 
so  placed  that  the  head  is  in  a  line  urith  the  doorway,  fac~ 
ing  it.  By  the  bed  stands  a  small  table  covered  with  bottles, 
saucers,  and  such  things.  A  wash-stand  and  a  few  chairs 
make  up  the  rest  of  the  furniture. 

FIRST    SCENE 

CLARA  SANG  is  lying  in  the  bed.  Her  clothing  is  white, 
and  the  bed  has  a  white  cover.  Her  sister,  MRS. 
HANNA  ROBERTS,  is  standing  at  one  of  the  windows. 

HANNA.  How  the  sun  is  shining  on  the  leaves  of  the  birches ! 
And  how  tender  the  leaves  are  up  here! 

CLARA.  But  now  I  smell  the  bird-cherry  blossoms. 

HANNA.  I  am  looking  and  looking,  but  I  cannot  see  a 
single  bird-cherry  tree. 

CLARA.  You  cannot  see  it,  but  it's  there.     The  smell  of  it 
is  carried  down  here  by  the  morning  breeze. 

HANNA.  But  I  smell  nothing. 

CLARA.  Oh,  after  such  a  rain  the  slightest  current  from  the 
outside  carries  its  own  scent. 

Ill 


BEYOND  OUR  POWER        ACT  i.    sc.  i 

HANNA.  And  you  smell  bird-cherry  blossoms? 

CLARA.  Most  distinctly ! — And  I  think  you  had  better  close 
the  lower  window. 

HANNA.  All  right.  [She  closes  the  window. 

CLARA.  Who  was  it  that  said  there  was  danger  of  a  land- 
slide? 

HANNA.  That  old  fellow — the  strokesman  of  the  boat  that 
brought  us  in.  It  rained  and  rained,  and  then  he  said:  "This 
is  dangerous  weather — after  a  rain  like  this,  things  get  loosened 
up  in  the  mountains!" 

CLARA.  I  thought  of  nothing  else  last  night.  We  have  had 
slide  after  slide  here,  you  know.  Once — well,  that  was  before 
our  time — the  church  was  carried  away. 

HANNA.  The  church? 

CLARA.  Not  from  where  it  is  now.  It  stood  farther  away 
then. 

HANNA.  Is  that  why  it  has  been  placed  right  up  against 
the  garden  wall? 

CLARA.  Yes.  And  when  they  open  up  the  church  windows 
in  the  summer,  as  they  have  done  now,  I  can  lie  here  and  hear 
Adolph  singing  at  the  altar.  That  is,  if  our  door  here  is  open, 
and  also  the  door  to  the  living-room — and,  of  course,  the  win- 
dow in  the  living-room  must  be  open.  He  sings  so  beautifully. 
And  when  both  doors  stand  open,  I  can  see  the  church  from 
this  place.  Come  over  here!  That's  why  the  bed  is  placed 
just  here,  you  know. 

HANNA.  [Going  over  to  the  bed]  Oh,  dearest,  that  I  should 
come  back  to  find  you  in  such  a  condition! 

CLARA.  Hanna! 

HANNA.  Why  didn't  you  write? 

CLARA.  First  of  all,  America  is  so  far  away.  And  then — 
but  we'll  leave  that  to  some  other  time. 


ACT  i.    sc.  i        BEYOND   OUR  POWER  113 

HANNA.  I  didn't  understand  your  answer  yesterday,  when 
I  asked  about  a  doctor? 

CLARA.  Adolph  was  here,  so  I  didn't  want  to  answer.  We 
have  no  doctor. 

HANNA.  You  have  no  doctor? 

CLARA.  Well,  he  came  and  came — and  he's  a  good  way  off 
at  that — but  nothing  happened.  And  when  I  had  been  lying 
a  whole  month  here  without  sleep 

HANNA.  A  whole  month  without  sleep?  But  that  is  im- 
possible! 

CLARA.  It's  close  to  six  weeks  now! — Well,  then  it  didn't 
seem  to  matter  much  whether  the  doctor  came  or  not,  don't 
you  see?  My  husband  asked  him  what  my  trouble  was,  and 
he  gave  it  an  ugly-sounding  name.  Adolph  hasn't  told  me 
what  it  was,  so  I  don't  know.  And  since  then  we  have  not 
sent  for  him  again. 

HANNA.  Are  you  not  talking  too  much? 

CLARA.  Whole  days  go  by  without  my  saying  a  word.  At 
other  times  I  talk  continuously.  I  have  to. — I  suppose 
Adolph  will  soon  be  back  from  his  morning  walk  now,  and 
then  he  will  bring  me  flowers. 

HANNA.  Couldn't  I  pick  some  for  you,  as  you  long  so  much 
for  them? 

CLARA.  No,  thank  you,  for  there  are  some  that  I  cannot 
endure.  But  he  knows  them. — But,  Hanna,  you  haven't  told 
me  yet  about  your  meeting  with  the  children  on  board  the 
steamer.  And  I  want  so  badly  to  hear  about  it. 

HANNA.  Everything  was  so  upset  here  yesterday. 

CLARA.  And  then  you  were  all  tired.  Think  of  it — the 
children  are  still  asleep.  From  seven  to  seven.!  That's  youth, 
sure  enough! 

HANNA.  Well,  they  needed  it.  But  I  can  only  sleep  a  few 
hours  at  a  time.  And  yet  I  don't  feel  tired. 


114  BEYOND   OUR  POWER        ACT  i.    sc.  i 

CLARA.  That's  what  happens  to  everybody  who  comes  up 
here  where  the  midnight  sun  is  shining.  They  seem  to  be 
startled  out  of  their  usual  sleepiness. — But  the  children — are 
they  not  sweet? 

HANNA.  And  such  innocents!  But  in  features  they  don't 
resemble  you,  nor  Sang  either — that  is,  except  their  eyes. 
That  came  home  to  me  later. 

CLARA.  Tell  me,  tell  me! 

HANNA.  For  if  they  had  resembled  you,  I  should  have 
recognised  them  at  once.  You  must  remember,  of  course, 
that  I  had  seen  neither  one  of  you  since  you  were  young. 
Well,  I  saw  them  as  they  were  coming  aboard,  and  later  also, 
although  they  were  travelling  second-class 

CLARA.  Yes,  poor  things,  they  couldn't  afford  better. 

HANNA.  And  yet  I  didn't  recognise  them.  Then  I  hap- 
pened one  morning  to  be  standing  on  the  upper  deck,  and  they 
were  walking  rapidly  back  and  forth  right  below  where  I  stood 
— to  keep  themselves  warm.  And  each  time  they  turned 
their  backs  to  me  to  walk  forward,  I  kept  on  seeing  those  eyes 
of  theirs  just  the  same.  For  those  eyes  were  familiar  to  me. 
And  then  some  gulls  passed  us  so  close  that  they  made  Rachel 
reach  out  both  arms.  She  was  scared,  you  know,  for  they 
seemed  to  be  coming  right  at  her.  But  that  movement  of  her 
arms — it  was  exactly  yours.  And  then  I  knew  the  eyes  also. 
They  were  Sang's. 

CLARA.  And  then  you  went  down  to  them  at  once? 

HANNA.  Do  you  need  to  ask?  And  the  first  thing  I  said 
was:  "Is  your  name  Sang?"  And  they  didn't  have  to  answer. 
I  knew  it  perfectly.  And  then  I  said:  "I  am  Aunt  Hanna 
from  America."  And,  of  course,  all  three  of  us  were  very 
deeply  moved.  [Both  sisters  weep  quietly. 

CLARA.  Rachel  had  written  to  you  that  you  should  come 
over  and  see  me!  How  was  that? 


ACT  i.    sc.i        BEYOND  OUR  POWER  115 

HANNA.  That's  right.  And  it's  something  for  which  I  shall 
always  be  thankful  to  Rachel.  And  how  sweet  she  was!  I 
had  them  moved  over  to  the  first  cabin  at  once,  and  got  her 
tucked  up  in  a  big  shawl.  She  was  just  freezing.  And  I  got 
him  a  plaid. 

CLARA.  Dear! 

HANNA.  But,  do  you  know — yes,  it's  part  of  the  story — • 
just  then  a  squall  seemed  to  turn  the  whole  fiord  black.  We 
were  at  the  foot  of  a  towering  mountain  wall,  naked  and  grey. 
A  flock  of  gulls  came  out.  Some  of  them  flew  right  over  our 
heads,  screaming.  Everything  seemed  so  cold.  A  few  poor 
huts  along  the  shore  were  the  only  houses  in  sight,  and  we 
had  travelled  miles  and  miles  without  seeing  any  others. 
Nothing  but  peaks  and  rocks.  This  is  the  Northland,  I 
thought.  Here  these  poor  frozen  children  have  been  brought 
up.  Yes,  I'll  never  forget  it!  It  was  horrible! 

CLARA.  But  it  isn't  horrible. 

HANNA.  Oh,  Clara! — Now,  lying  there,  as  you  are — can 
you  remember  what  a  fine,  high-spirited  thing  you  used  to  be? 

CLARA.  Oh,  yes!  And  I  don't  know  how  I  am  going  to 
begin  to  explain  everything  to  you.  Good  gracious! 

HANNA.  Why  didn't  you  cry  out  across  the  sea  to  me?  To 
me  who  had  plenty  and  who  could  in  so  many  ways  have 
saved  you  from  being  worn  out?  Why  didn't  you  write  the 
truth?  You  have  kept  it  hidden  from  me  all  these  years. 
— Rachel  was  the  first  one  who  wrote  and  told  me  the 
truth. 

CLARA.  Yes,  yes — that's  the  way  it  was — and  the  way  it 
had  to  be! 

HANNA.  But  why? 

CLARA.  If  I  had  written  as  it  was,  and  all  of  you  had  come 
rushing — I  didn't  want  to  be  helped.  Because  I  couldn't  be 
helped. 


116  BEYOND  OUR  POWER       ACTI.    sc.  i 

HANNA.  But  then  you  actually  lied ? 

CLARA.  Of  course,  I  did.  I  have  been  telling  lies  all  the 
time — and  to  everybody.  What  else  could  I  do? 

HANNA.  There  are  things  here  that  pass  all  understanding. 
I  come  across  one  after  the  other. 

CLARA.  Listen,  Hanna.  You  used  the  words  "worn  out." 
You  said  that  you  could  have  saved  me  in  many  ways  from 
becoming  worn  out.  Have  you  ever  known  a  worn-out  per- 
son capable  of  asking  for  help?  Or  one  who  knew  how  to 
resist? 

HANNA.  But  before  you  had  become  worn  out? 

CLARA.  You  don't  know  what  you  are  talking  of. 

HANNA.  Well,  explain — if  you  can? 

CLARA.  No,  I  cannot — not  all  at  once — but  by  and  by, 
perhaps. 

HANNA.  You  didn't  share  his  faith  to  begin  with,  did  you? 
How  strange  that  was!  And  was  that  one  of  the  reasons? 

CLARA.  No. — Well,  it's  a  long  story! — But  it  wasn't  that. 
Our  natures  are  so  different — and  yet  it  isn't  that  either.  If 
Adolph  had  been  like  other  men,  ramping  and  raging — oh, 
then  it  would  have  been  easy — I  think!  But  long  before  he 
knew  me,  all  his  strength — and  he  has  strength,  I  tell  you! — 
had  become  absorbed  by  his  work.  It  had  turned  into  love 
and  self-sacrifice.  It  had  been  made  wholly  and  completely 
beautiful.  What  do  you  say  to  the  fact  that  in  our  house  a 
harsh  word  has  never  yet  been  heard?  Notliing  like  a 
"scene"  has  ever  occurred.  And  we  shall  soon  have  been 
married  twenty-five  years.  He  is  constantly  radiant  as  with 
the  joy  of  the  Sabbath.  For  to  him  the  whole  year  is  made 
up  of  Sundays. 

HANNA.  Heavens,  how  you  love  him! 

CLARA.  It  is  not  enough  to  say  that  I  love  him.  I  don't 
exist  without  him.  And  then  you  talk  of  resistance? — That 


ACT  i.    sc.i        BEYOND  OUR  POWER  117 

is,  at  times  I  have  had  to,  when  matters  have  been  going  too 
far  beyond  our  power. 

HANNA.  What  do  you  mean  by  that? 

CLARA.  I'll  explain  it  to  you  later.  But  who  can  resist 
what  is  all  goodness,  all  sacrifice  for  others,  all  joy  and  hap- 
piness? And  who  can  resist  when  his  childlike  faith  and 
supernatural  powers  sweep  everybody  else  along? 

HANNA.  Supernatural,  you  say? 

CLARA.  Haven't  you  heard  of  it?  Haven't  the  children 
told  you? 

HANNA.  What? 

CLARA.  That  Adolph,  when  he  prays  intently,  gets  what  he 
prays  for? 

HANNA.  Do  you  mean  that  he  works  miracles? 

CLARA.  Yes! 

HANNA.  Sang? 

CLARA.  Haven't  the  children  told  you? 

HANNA.  No. 

CLARA.  But  that's  remarkable. 

HANNA.  Not  a  word  has  been  said  of  anything  like  that. 

CLARA.  But  then  they  have  not  at  all —  Oh,  they  thought 
you  knew  of  it!  For  Adolph — well,  to  the  whole  country  he 
is  "the  wonder-worker."  Of  course,  they  thought  you  knew 
of  it.  And  they  are  so  diffident. 

HANNA.  But  does  he  work  miracles?    Miracles? 

CLARA.  Didn't  you  get  an  impression  of  something  super- 
natural the  moment  you  saw  him? 

HANNA.  It  would  never  have  occurred  to  me  to  use  that 
word — but  now,  when  you  speak  of  it —  He  gives  you,  in 
the  very  highest  degree — what  shall  I  call  it? — an  impression 
of  spirituality? — a  most  wonderful  impression.  As  if  he 
didn't  belong  here! 

CLARA.  Yes,  don't  you  think  so? 


118  BEYOND  OUR  POWER        ACT  i.    sc.  i 

HANNA.  I  do. 

CLARA.  Do  you  know,  that  sometimes  I  lie  here  completely 
tied  up  in  a  knot,  with  my  legs  drawn  up  to  the  chin  almost — 
well,  I  don't  dare  to  show  you,  for  that  might  bring  it  on.  And 
like  that  I  sometimes  lie  whole  days  together  when  he  is  away, 
utterly  unable  to  stretch  out  my  limbs.  Oh,  it's  dreadful,  I 
tell  you!  Once,  when  he  was  up  in  the  mountains — oh,  those 
journeys  into  the  mountains! — I  was  lying  here  for  eight — 
think  of  it,  eight! — days  in  that  state.  And  no  sooner  did  he 
appear  in  the  doorway,  so  that  7  saw  him  and  he  saw  me,  than 
my  arms  and  legs  began  to  yield.  And  then  he  came  up  to 
me,  and  passed  his  hands  over  me,  and  in  a  moment  I  was 
lying  as  straight  as  I  am  now!  And  it  is  always  like  that — up 
they  will  come,  up  they  will  come !  And  the  moment  he  enters 
the  room,  it  passes! 

HANNA.  How  very  strange! 

CLARA.  And  what  do  you  say  of  this?  Sick  people — that 
is,  sick  people  who  really  believe — it  has  happened,  not  once, 
but  a  hundred  times — when  he  came  and  prayed  with  them, 
they  got  well. 

HANNA.  Actually  well? 

CLARA.  Absolutely  well!  And  more  than  that.  There 
were  sick  people  he  couldn't  reach — oh,  you  know  the  distances 
we  have  here — and  to  those  he  would  write  that,  on  such  and 
such  a  day,  at  such  and  such  an  hour,  he  would  pray  for  them, 
and  that  they  must  pray  themselves  at  the  same  time.  And 
from  that  hour  their  sickness  would  take  a  turn  for  the  better. 
This  is  true!  I  know  of  many  such  cases. 

HANNA.  Wonderful! — But  you  have  never  written  me  a 
word  of  all  this. 

CLARA.  Didn't  I  know  you?  Do  you  think  I  cared  to  ex- 
pose him  to  your  scepticism? — We  have  an  old  minister's 
widow  here — you  must  see  her!  She  lives  only  a  little  ways 


ACT  i.    sc.  i        BEYOND  OUR  POWER  119 

from  here.  She  is  the  most  venerable  old  lady  I  have  ever 
seen. — Well,  she  had  been  paralysed  for  fifteen  years  when 
Adolph  first  came  here — that's  twenty-five  years  ago.  Now 
she  goes  to  church  every  Sunday!  And  she  is  close  to  a  hundred. 

HANNA.  And  he  cured  her? 

CLARA.  Just  by  praying  for  her  and  by  getting  her  to  pray ! 
Oh,  how  he  can  pray!  And  then  there  was  the  case  of  Agot 
Florvagen.  It's  the  most  remarkable  of  all.  For  she  was 
dead  as  far  as  we  could  see.  Then  he  took  one  of  her  hands 
in  one  of  his,  and  he  put  his  other  hand  on  her  heart  to  warm 
it,  and  she  began  to  breathe  again.  Now  she  is  living  with 
the  old  widow — right  by  here! — I  might  keep  on  like  this  till 
to-morrow  morning,  just  telling  and  telling.  Oh,  here  and 
elsewhere,  among  thousands  and  thousands  of  believing  ones 
all  over  the  country,  his  name  has  a  glamour  attached  to  it 
such  as  was  never  heard  of.  And  now  it  is  getting  to  a  point 
where  it  doesn't  leave  us  in  peace  a  single  day. 

HANNA.  Then  I  may  also  see  this — what  you  speak  of — 
while  I  am  here? 

CLARA.  As  surely  as  I  am  lying  here  unable  to  raise  myself 
an  inch  from  the  bed! 

HANNA.  But  why  shouldn't  the  miracle  come  to  you  also, 
Clara?  Why  hasn't  he  cured  you  long  ago? 

CLARA.  [After  a  pause]  There  is  a  special  reason. 

HANNA.  But  can't  you  tell  me? 

CLARA.  No. — Yes,  I  mean.  But  later.- — You'll  have  to 
open  a  window  again.  It's  getting  close  in  here.  More  air, 
please! 

HANNA.  Yes,  yes,  dear!  [She  opens  the  upper  window. 

CLARA.  He  ought  soon  to  be  here  now.  This  morning  he 
is  staying  away  very  long.  If  I  could  only  smell  the  flowers. 
Now,  after  the  rain,  there  must  be  masses  of  them.  And  it's 
eeven  o'clock — almost  seven! 


120  BEYOND   OUR  POWER        ACT  i.    so.  i 

HANNA.  [Looking  at  her  ivatch]  Yes,  so  it  is! 

CLARA.  Ever  since  I  have  been  lying  here  like  this,  I  have 
been  able  to  tell  the  time  exactly. — Am  I  not  going  to  get  a 
breath  of  fresh  air? — I  think  the  wind  must  have  gone  down — 
Why  don't  you  answer? 

HANNA.  I  didn't  hear  what  you  said. — I  simply  cannot  get 
over  my  surprise. 

CLARA.  Well,  I  suppose  there  is  nothing  more  remarkable 
in  this  country.  Perhaps  not  in  our  entire  age. 

HANNA.  What  do  people  say  about  it?  How  do  the  peas- 
ants regard  him? 

CLARA.  I  believe  that  anywhere  but  here  it  would  have  at- 
tracted twenty  times — nay,  a  hundred  times — as  much  atten- 
tion. Here  it  is  only  as  it  should  be. 

HANNA.  But,  Clara — a  miracle  is  a  miracle. 

CLARA.  Yes,  to  you  and  me.  But  there  is  something 
in  nature  up  here  that  demands  the  unusual  even  of  us. 
Nature  itself  seems  to  have  passed  the  limits  of  reason  up 
here.  Almost  the  entire  winter  is  one  long  night.  And  the 
summer  is  one  long  day,  when  the  sun  remains  above  the 
horizon  all  the  time.  You  have  seen  it  at  night,  haven't 
you?  But  do  you  know  that  the  mists  from  the  ocean  at 
times  make  it  appear  three  and  four  times  larger  than  it  is? 
And  then  the  colour  effects  produced  at  sea,  on  the  moun- 
tains, and  in  the  sky — running  all  the  way  from  a  fiercely 
glowing  red  to  the  gentlest,  most  delicate  whitish-yellow! 
And  then  the  colours  painted  by  the  Northern  Lights  on  the 
wintry  sky!  More  subdued,  of  course;  but  still  there  is  in 
them  such  a  wildness  of  pattern,  such  a  restlessness,  such 
change  without  end —  And  then  all  the  other  monstrosities  of 
nature!  Flocks  of  birds  that  run  into  the  millions;  schools 
of  fish  that  would  reach  "from  London  to  Liverpool,"  as  one 
man  wrote.  Dp  you  see  these  mountains,  rising  straight  out 


ACT  i.    sc.  i        BEYOND  OUR  POWER  121 

of  the  sea?  They  are  not  like  other  mountains. — And  the 
ideas  of  the  people  are  proportionate.  They  are  simply 
boundless.  Their  legends  and  their  fairy  tales  give  you 
a  sense  of  somebody  piling  continent  on  continent  and 
then  hurling  the  icy  peaks  of  the  North  Pole  on  top  of  every- 
thing else.  Yes,  you  may  smile!  But  listen  to  their  tales. 
Talk  to  the  people.  Then  you  will  soon  see  that  Pastor 
Adolph  Sang  is  a  man  to  suit  their  own  hearts.  His  faith  fits 
the  place.  He  brought  with  him  a  fortune  when  he  came 
here,  and  he  has  given  away  almost  everything.  That's  the 
way  it  had  to  be!  That's  Christianity!  And  now,  when  he 
travels  miles  and  miles  to  visit  some  poor,  sick  creature,  and 
when  he  prays  so  that  their  innermost  souls  are  laid  open,  and 
the  light  seems  to  get  right  into  them,  unreflected — !  At 
times  they  catch  sight  of  him  far  out  at  sea  in  impossible 
weather — he  alone  in  a  tiny,  little  boat — or  perhaps  one  of 
the  children,  or  both,  may  be  with  him — for  he  has  been 
taking  them  along  since  they  were  six  years  old.  Perhaps  he 
works  a  miracle  before  he  is  off  to  another  fisher  village — and 
there  again  the  same!  It  is  as  if  they  just  expected  it  of  him. 
And  even  more  than  that!  If  I  hadn't  held  back — well,  then 
we  shouldn't  have  enough  to  live  on  to-day,  and  probably  he 
would  not  be  living.  Not  even  the  children  would  be  spared, 
perhaps —  Of  myself  it  is  no  use  talking.  For  I  have  reached 
the  end. 

HANNA.  But  then  you  haven't  held  back ? 

CLARA.  So  it  may  seem.  But  I  have.  Not  by  remon- 
strances. That  would  have  done  no  good.  No,  I  am  forced 
to  invent  something — something  new  every  time — or  he'll 
see  through  it.  And  it  brings  me  to  despair! 

HANNA.  Invent  something,  you  say? 

CLARA.  There  is  one  sense  he  lacks  entirely:  the  sense  of 
reality.  He  never  sees  anything  but  what  he  wants  to  see. 


122  BEYOND   OUR  POWER        ACT  i.     sc.  i 

Thus,  for  instance,  he  cannot  see  anything  evil  in  anybody. 
That  is,  he  sees  it,  but  he  doesn't  care.  "I  hold  on  to  what 
is  good  in  men,"  he  says.  And  when  he  is  talking  to  them, 
they  become  good — absolutely  every  one!  When  he  looks  at 
them  with  those  childlike  eyes  of  his — what  else  could  they  do? 
But  then,  of  course,  it  turns  out  badly  afterward.  For  he 
ruins  us  for  the  sake  of  such  people. — But  that's  the  way  he 
lives,  without  the  least  regard  for  actual  conditions  of  any 
kind,  small  or  great.  If  permitted,  he  would  take  our  last 
cent — what  we  were  to  live  on  to-morrow!  "God  will  surely 
give  it  back  to  us,  for  it  is  what  he  has  told  us  to  do." — When 
the  weather  is  such  that  the  hardiest  sailors  won't  venture 
out  in  a  ship,  not  to  speak  of  the  pastor's  sail-boat,  then  he 
wants  to  start  out  in  a  mere  skiff — and  perhaps  with  his  own 
little  child  in  the  stern  at  that! — He  has  ventured  across  the 
mountains  in  a  fog  and  wandered  around  up  there  for  three 
days  and  nights  without  a  vestige  to  eat  or  drink.  They 
went  in  search  for  him  and  brought  him  back.  And  a  week 
later,  with  the  fog  still  lasting,  he  wanted  to  try  the  same 
trip  again.  Somebody  was  ill  and  wanting  him! 

HANNA.  But  can  he  stand  it? 

CLARA.  He  can  stand  everything.  He  goes  to  sleep  like  a 
tired  child,  and  sleeps,  sleeps,  sleeps.  Then  he  wakes  up, 
eats,  and  begins  it  all  over  again.  He  lives  in  some  region 
apart  from  the  rest  of  us:  for  he  is  innocent  through  and 
through. 

HANNA.  How  you  do  love  him! 

CLARA.  Yes,  it  is  the  only  thing  that  is  left  of  me.  This 
difficulty  about  the  children  finished  me. 

HANNA.  The  children? 

CLARA.  They  took  harm  from  staying  here.  No  regulation 
or  discipline:  it  turned  them  topsy-turvy.  Never  any  check 
on  whatever  was  held  right!  Never  any  reasoning — only  u> 


ACT  i.    BC.I        BEYOND  OUR  POWER  123 

spi ration!  They  were  already  grown  up  and  had  learned 
nothing  but  to  read  and  write. — And  how  I  fought  to  get 
them  away  from  here!  And  then,  for  five  years,  to  keep  them 
over  there,  and  to  get  them  some  education!  It  took  the 
last  remnant  of  my  strength.  Now  it  is  all  over  with  me. 

HANNA.  Dearest,  dearest! 

CLARA.  You  don't  mean  to — you  are  not  pitying  me,  are 
you?  Me,  who  have  had  for  companion  on  my  journey  the 
best  man  on  earth,  the  noblest  will  in  all  mankind! — In  that 
way  one  does  not  live  so  long  as  otherwise — true!  But  one 
cannot  have  everything.  And  to  choose  something  else — • 
oh,  dear! 

HANNA.  But  he  has  destroyed  the  rest  of  you. 

CLARA.  He  has!  Exactly!  That  is,  he  has  not  destroyed 
all — for  he  was  not  permitted  to  do  so.  And  he  would  have 
destroyed  himself,  too,  had  he  been  given  a  chance.  He  is 
always  going  beyond  his  power. 

HANNA.  Beyond  his  power?  When  he  really  works  mir- 
acles? And  comes  out  of  everything  unharmed? 

CLARA.  Don't  you  think  the  miracles  also  depend  on  the 
fact  that  he  is  going  beyond  his  power? 

HANNA.  Now  you  scare  me.     What  do  you  mean? 

CLARA.  I  mean  that  the  prophets  must  have  been  like 
that.  Those  of  the  Jews  as  well  as  of  the  Pagans.  In  certain 
directions  they  were  capable  of  more  than  we  because  they 
lacked  so  much  in  other  directions.  Yes,  that's  the  way  it 
has  seemed  to  me. 

HANNA.  But  don't  you  believe? 

CLARA.  Believe?  What  do  you  mean  by  that?  We  sisters 
come  from  a  more  or  less  neurotic  old  family  of  sceptics — an 
intellectual  family,  I  dare  say.  I  admired  Adolph.  He  was 
unlike  all  others,  better  than  all  others.  I  admired  him  until 
I  fell  in  love  with  him.  It  wasn't  his  faith  that  did  it:  to  me 


124  BEYOND   OUR  POWER        ACT  i.    sc,  i 

that  was  only  one  of  his  peculiarities.  How  far  I  now  share 
that  faith  with  him — I  don't  know. 

HANNA.  Don't  you  know? 

CLARA.  I  have  been  so  harassed,  I  tell  you,  that  I  have  had 
no  chance  to  make  up  my  mind  about  it.  Such  a  thing  takes 
time.  I  have  had  my  hands  full  trying  to  steer  us  straight 
from  one  wave  crest  to  another.  The  effort  of  it  has  wasted 
me  prematurely.  Long  ago  I  lost  the  power  of  dealing  with 
large  problems. — It's  barely  possible  for  me  to  tell  what's 
right  and  wrong.  Oh,  in  a  crude  way,  of  course — but  not  in 
a  finer  sense!  I  must  do  what  I  can.  And  so  with  my  faith, 
too!  More  than  that  is  beyond  my  power. 

HANNA.  And  he  knows  it? 

CLARA.  He  knows  all.  Do  you  think  I  could  hide  any- 
thing from  him? 

HANNA.  But  does  he  not  want  you  to  believe  what  he  be- 
lieves himself? 

CLARA.  Not  in  the  least.  This  matter  of  faith,  if  we  are 
not  to  be  lost — it  is  God's  own  concern,  he  says.  Ours  is  to 
be  true.  If  we  are,  the  faith  will  come — here  or  elsewhere. 
Oh,  there  is  nothing  inconsistent  about  him! 

HANNA.  But  isn't  he  working  for  the  spread  of  his  faith? 

CLARA.  In  his  own  way.  Never,  never,  by  pressure.  He 
shows  absolutely  the  same  consideration  for  everybody.  For 
everybody — do  you  understand?  Oh,  there  is  no  one  like 
him! 

HANNA.  You  still  see  him  as  you  did  in  those  first  days  of 
rapture!  And  this  although  your  eyes  have  grown  old! 

CLARA.  Yes,  though  my  eyes  have  grown  old. 

HANNA.  But  now  as  to  your  faith  in  his  miracles — at 
bottom  you  don't  believe  in  them  at  all? 

CLARA.  What  are  you  saying?  There  is  nothing  else  in 
the  world  in  which  I  believe  so  completely! 


ACT  i.    sc.  i        BEYOND  OUR  POWER  125 

HANNA.  When  you  don't  dare  let  him  go  out  in  a  storm 
— when  you  don't  dare  feel  sure  of  getting  back  what  he 
gives  away,  even  if  it  be  all  you  have  left — then  you  don't 
believe  in  them. 

CLARA.  Rather  than  permitting  such  a  thing —  Oh,  this  is 
where  my  strength  lies,  I  tell  you! 

HANNA.  All  right.  But  it  is  not  the  strength  that  springs 
from  faith. 

CLARA.  No,  you  mustn't —  If  there  should  be  some  contra- 
diction here — what  of  it?  All  of  us  are  full  of  contradictions 
— all  but  he!  And  then,  you  know,  to  throw  oneself  and 
one's  children  into  the  sea — that's  not  faith:  it  is  to  tempt 
God. 

HANNA.  But  it  seems  to  me  that  a  miracle  may  be  wrought 
then  as  at  any  other  time — whether  our  own  lives  are  at  stake, 
or  those  of  other  people. 

CLARA.  But  to  put  one's  own  life  in  danger? 

HANNA.  When  it  is  done  to  save  others?  That  cannot  be 
called  to  tempt  God. 

CLARA.  Listen — no,  let's  drop  it.  I  am  too  tired.  All  I 
know  is  that  if  he  wants  to  take  the  children's  livelihood  and 
give  it  to  people  that  are  bad  and  useless,  or  if  he  wants  to 
start  across  the  mountains  in  a  fog,  or  put  to  sea  in  a  storm 
— then — then  I  just  throw  myself  across  his  path.  I'll  do 
anything  I  can  think  of,  absolutely  anything,  to  stop  him! — • 
Suppose  he  should  try  to  do  something  of  that  kind  just  now 
— I  have  not  been  able  to  stand  on  my  feet  in  many  a  month 
— but  then  I  could  do  it!  Then  I  could!  I  am  sure  of  it! 
At  such  moments  7  can  also  work  miracles.  For  I  love  him 
and  the  children.  [Long  pause. 

HANNA.  Can  I  help  you  in  any  way? 

CLARA.  Let  me  have  some  eau  de  Cologne.  Put  some  on 
my  temples.  And  let  me  smell  it  too,  of  that  you  brought, 


126  BEYOND  OUR   POWER       ACT  i.    sc.  n 

me  yesterday.  Hurry  up,  please!  Can't  you  get  the  cork 
out? — The  corkscrew  is  over  there — no,  no,  over  there!  And 
open  the  lower  window — the  lower  one  also! 

HANNA.  Yes,  yes! 

CLARA.  Thank  you ! — If  the  ground  were  not  so  damp  after 
these  horrible  rains,  I  should  go  outside  a  while — can't  you 
get  the  cork  out? 

HANNA.  In  a  moment! 

CLARA.  Push  in  the  screw  a  little  further — but  not  too  far 
— that's  it — that's  it — now — no — jasmin! 

HANNA.  Jasmin? — There  is  no  jasmin! 

CLARA.  Jasmin,  jasmin — !  It  is  he!  I  hear  him!  It  is 
he!  The  Lord  be  thanked!  Now  I'll  be  quiet — quiet!  Oh, 
the  blessing  of  it!  There — he  is!  [SANG  enters. 

SECOND    SCENE 

SANG.  Good  morning  again! — Good  morning,  dear  Hanna! 
Oh,  that  we  have  you  here — that  we  have  you  here! — Such  a 
morning  as  this,  so  full  of  song  and  fragrance,  you  don't  have 
in  America — or  anywhere  else  in  the  world! 

CLARA.  And  my  flowers? 

SANG.  Do  you  know  what  happened,  Clara? 

CLARA.  You  gave  them  away? 

SANG.  No!  Ha-ha!  Not  this  time,  as  Tordenskjold1  said. 
— Oh,  but  you  are  a  bad  one ! — Here  we  have  ranted  and  raged 
at  this  endless,  horrible  raining,  and  been  afraid  of  landslides 
and  falling  rocks — and  all  sorts  of  disasters.  And  the  rain 
has  done  nothing  but  bring  us  a  great  blessing! — When  at 
last  I  saw  the  sun  again  this  morning,  and  went  out — what  a 

1 A  famous  Danish  admiral  of  Norwegian  birth,  who  had  many  hair-breadth  es- 
capes in  his  numerous  encounters  with  the  Swedes. 


ACT  i.    sc.n       BEYOND  OUR  POWER  127 

flowery  host  there  was  to  meet  me!  I  have  never  before  seen 
anything  like  this  year!  Oh,  the  richness  of  colour  and  odour 
all  around  me — and  all  of  a  sudden  it  filled  me  with  such  a 
sense  of  joy  that  I  couldn't  but  think  it  a  shame  to  step  on 
the  things  that  brought  me  such  happiness.  And  so  I  turned 
aside,  and  found  a  path,  and  this  I  followed,  looking  down  into 
all  those  dewy  eyes  at  my  feet.  What  a  crowding  there  was 
among  them!  What  a  will  to  live  in  that  crowd!  What 
passion!  Even  the  smallest  among  them  craned  their  necks 
to  reach  the  sun.  How  eager,  how  greedy,  they  were!  Really, 
I  think  some  of  them  must  have  rushed  ahead  at  such  a  rate 
that  they  will  send  their  pollen  dust  courting  before  the  day  is 
over!  And  I  have  already  seen  several  bumble-bees.  They 
didn't  know  where  to  turn  in  the  midst  of  all  that  fragrance. 
For  there  were  thousands  and  thousands  of  blossoms,  and  each 
thousand  tried  to  surpass  all  the  rest  in  passionately  tempt- 
ing odours.  Oh,  such  doings!  And  you  may  be  sure  there  is 
individuality,  too,  in  all  this  millionfold  multiplicity.  Yes, 
there  is!  And  so  I  couldn't  pick  a  single  one  of  them. — But 
I  have  something  else  for  you  to-day! 

CLARA.  [Who  has  been  signalling  to  her  sister  while  SANQ 
was  speaking]  Have  you? 

SANG.  I,  too,  will  try  to  raise  on  high  a  flowery  cup 

CLARA.  Dear,  what  is  it? 

SANG.  Well,  I  suppose  you  never  thought  me  mean  enough 
to  keep  anything  to  myself?  But  I  can! 

CLARA.  I  have  noticed  for  a  long  time  that  there  was 
something 

SANG.  Have  you  really?  And  I  who  haven't  said  a  word 
this  time! — But  when  your  illness  didn't  frighten  me  as  much 
as  the  rest,  there  was  good  reason  for  it. 

CLARA.  But  what  is  it? 

HANNA.  Yes,  what  is  it?     She  is  getting  excited!    " 


128  BEYOND  OUR  POWER       ACT  i.    sc.  n 

SANG.  Now  I'll  tell  at  once.  I  have  helped  so  many  and 
cannot  help  her — because  she  is  self-willed,  and  I  cannot  pray 
with  her  as  I  should.  And  I  have  no  power  over  those  that 
don't  pray  themselves — that  is,  when  they  can\  pray  at  all. 
And  so  I  wrote  to  our  children  to  come  home.  And  last 
night,  when  I  sent  them  to  bed  so  early,  I  told  them  why  I 
did  so — that  I  wanted  them  to  have  a  good  night's  sleep,  and 
then  be  ready  at  seven  in  the  morning  to  help  me  pray  at 
theu-  mother's  bedside. 

CLARA.  Oh,  dearest,  dearest! 

SANG.  We'll  weave  a  prayer  chain  around  you !  One  of  us 
at  your  feet,  one  at  your  head,  and  I  right  in  front  of  you! 
And  we  won't  cease  until  you  fall  asleep.  Not  until  then — • 
not  until  you  sleep!  And  then  we'll  repeat  it  until  you  get 
up  and  walk  with  the  rest  of  us.  That's  what  we  are  going 
to  do! 

CLARA.  Oh,  you  dear  soul! 

HANNA.  What  did  the  children  say? 

SANG.  You  should  have  seen  them!  How  it  stirred  them! 
I  tell  you,  their  faces  were  as  white  as  sheets.  And  then  they 
looked  at  each  other. — But  I  guessed  that  they  wanted  to  be 
left  alone. — I  can  see  that  you  are  stirred  by  it,  too.  Your 
eyes  close.  Perhaps  you  also  want  to  be  left  alone? — For  we 
are  going  to  have  a  visitor — a  wonderful  visitor — and  it  is 
necessary  to  be  prepared! — What  time  is  it? 

HANNA.  After  seven. 

SANG.  Not  yet,  for  then  they  would  be  here.  You  have 
forgotten  to  set  your  watch  according  to  our  local  time. 

HANNA.  Oh,  no,  I  haven't. 

SANG.  Then  you  haven't  set  it  right,  my  dear.  How  can 
you  imagine  that  grown-up  children  would  oversleep  when 
called  to  pray  at  their  mother's  bedside? 

HANNA.  I'll  go  up  to  them. 


ACT  i.    sc.ra      BEYOND  OUR  POWER  129 

SANG.  No,  no,  no!  They  must  not  be  disturbed  these  last 
few  moments.  I  know  what  it  means. 

HANNA.  They  won't  hear  me.  I'll  just  take  a  peep  at 
them.  [Goes  out. 

SANG.  Now  be  careful,  please! 

THIRD    SCENE 

SANG.  It's  fine  of  her  to  be  so  eager  about  it. 

CLARA.  Dearest! 

SANG.  Your  voice  is  troubled — ?  Oh,  do  be  hopeful  now! 
I  have  never  felt  more  certain  of  myself.  And  you  know  from 
whom  that  feeling  flows. — Clara! — My  beloved!  [He  kneels 
beside  her  bed]  Before  we  join  in  the  great  prayer,  let  me  thank 
you !  I  have  been  thanking  the  Lord  for  you  to-day.  In  the 
midst  of  all  this  spring-time  glory  I  have  been  thanking  Him. 
So  boundless  was  the  joy  within  me  and  without  me.  And  in 
my  mind  I  have  gone  over  what  we  have  principally  lived 
together.  Do  you  know,  I  think  I  love  you  the  more  for  not 
wholly  sharing  my  faith?  It  keeps  you  still  more  in  my 
thoughts.  Your  devotion  to  me  comes  wholly  from  your- 
self, from  your  will — and  from  nothing  else.  And  I  am  proud 
of  the  fact  that,  by  my  side,  you  have  remained  true  to  your- 
self. But  when  I  realise  that  you — without  believing  as  I 
do — have  sacrificed  your  life  for  my  sake 

CLARA.  Adolph! 

SANG.  I'll  put  my  hand  over  your  mouth  if  you  speak. 
Now  it's  my  turn! — Oh,  it's  a  great  thing  you  have  done. 
We  other  ones,  we  are  giving  our  faith;  but  you  are  giving 
your  life.  What  confidence  you  must  have  in  me!  And  how 
I  love  you! — When  the  fervour  of  my  faith  frightened  you, 
and  you  trembled  for  me,  or  for  the  future  of  the  children, 
and  when,  perhaps,  you  didn't  quite  consider  what  you  were 


130  BEYOND   OUR  POWER      ACT  i.    sc.  iv 

doing — 7  know  that  you  didn't  have  strength  enough  left  to 
do  otherwise. 

CLARA.  No,  I  hadn't! 

SANG.  It  is  my  fault.     I  have  not  known  how  to  spare  you. 

CLARA.  Adolph! 

SANG.  I  know  it's  so !  You  have  sacrificed  yourself  little  by 
little.  And  not  for  the  sake  of  your  faith,  not  for  the  hope  of 
some  reward  here  or  there — but  out  of  love  alone.  How  I 
love  you! — All  this  I  wanted  to  tell  you  to-day.  If  Hanna 
hadn't  gone  out,  I  should  have  asked  her  to  leave  me  alone 
with  you  a  little  while. — I  thank  you!  This  is  your  great 
day!  And  now  the  children  will  soon  be  here. — Let  me  kiss 
you  again  as  I  kissed  you  that  first  day! 

FOURTH    SCENE 

SANG.  Well? 

HANNA.  It's  past  seven. 

CLAKA.  I  knew  it. 

SANG.  Is  it  past  seven?    And  the  children? 

HANNA.  They  were  asleep. 

SANG.  Asleep? 

CLARA.  I  knew  it. 

HANNA.  Elias  was  dressed.  He  had  thrown  himself  on  the 
bed  as  if  he  didn't  want  to  sleep,  but  just  rest  a  little,  and 
sleep  had  overtaken  him  in  spite  of  himself.  Rachel  was 
sleeping  with  her  hands  folded  on  the  cover.  She  didn't  hear^ 
me. 

SANG.  I  have  asked  too  much  of  the  children.  That's 
what  I  always  do. 

HANNA.  They  had  hardly  slept  for  two  days  and  nights — 
or  since  we  met. 


ACT  i.    sc.v       BEYOND  OUR  POWER  131 

SANG.  But  what  did  the  Lord  mean  then,  by  giving  me 
such  strength  to-day?  And  by  making  me  feel  so  certain  of 
myself? — I  must  try  to  discover  it!  [Going  out]  Pardon  me  a 

moment,  dear  friends! — Why  exactly  this  day ? 

[HANNA  enters. 

FIFTH    SCENE 

CLARA.  Did  you  wake  them? 

HANNA.  Of  course. — Do  you  know  what  I  think  is  the 
matter? 

CLARA.  Good  Lord,  yes! — Oh,  I  am  trembling  already! 

HANNA.  Can  anything  be  done  about  it? 

CLARA.  No— nothing  except  what  I  can  do  myself  to  soften 
it. — Oh! — There  was  a  something  in  their  eyes  yesterday — 
now  I  understand  what  it  was. 

HANNA.  They  have  lost  their  father's  faith. 

CLARA.  They  have  lost  their  father's  faith. — The  poor 
things,  how  they  must  have  been  struggling  and  suffering! 
Loving  and  respecting  him  more  than  anything  else  on  this 
earth,  as  they  do! 

HANNA.  That's  why  they  were  so  quiet  yesterday. 

CLARA.  That's  why  the  slightest  thing  moved  them  so 
easily. — Oh,  and  that's  why  Rachel  wrote  for  you.  Some- 
body had  to  be  here — and  she  herself  didn't  dare. 

HANNA.  I  think  you  are  right. — How  they  must  have  been 
wrestling  with  this! 

"CLARA.  Oh,  the  poor  things,  the  poor  things! 

HANNA.  Here  comes  Elias. 

CLARA.  Is  he  coming  r 

ELIAS.  [Throwing  himself  on  hie  knees  beside  his  mother's 
btd  and  burying  his  face  in  his  hands]  Oh,  mother! 

CLARA.  Yes,  yes — I  know  everything. 


132  BEYOND  OUR  POWER      ACT  i.    sc.  vi 

ELIAS.  You  know?     Oh,  it  couldn't  be  worse! 

CLARA.  No,  it  couldn't. 

ELIAS.  When  he  said  last  night,  that  at  seven  o'clock  this 
morning 

CLARA.  Don't  now!     I  cannot  bear  it! 

HANNA.  Your  mother  cannot  bear  it. 

ELIAS.  I  won't — I  knew  it  had  to  come.  In  one  way  or 
another.  It  had  to  come  in  the  end. 

HANNA.  Can  you  bear  to  hear  it? 

CLARA.  I  must  hear. — Tell  me 

HANNA.  What  is  it? 

CLARA.  Elias — are  you  not  there? 

ELIAS.  Here  I  am,  mother. 

CLARA.  And  Rachel? 

ELIAS.  What  do  you  mean,  mother? 

CLARA.  Where  is  Rachel? 

ELIAS.  She's  getting  up.  She  was  awake  with  me  till  mid- 
night. But  then  she  couldn't  any  longer. 

CLARA.  Children,  how — oh,  how — how  did  it  happen? 

ELIAS.  That  we  lost  father's  faith? 

CLARA.  That  you  lost  your  father's  faith,  children? 

[SANG  enters. 

SIXTH    SCENE 

SANG.  Have  you  lost  your  faith? — My  boy —  Have  you 
lost  your  faith? 

HANNA.  Look  at  Clara — look  at  her! 

SANG.  [Hurries  over  to  the  bed  and  puts  his  hands  on  CLARA] 
It'll  stop!  It  won't  come! — Thank  God! 

CLARA.  It's — passing — but  you  must  hold  me. 

SANG.  I  will  hold  you! 


ACT  i.    sc.  vi      BEYOND  OUR  POWER  133 

CLARA.  And  don't  let  me  cry — oh! 

SANG.  No,  no!  No  crying!  [He  bends  down  over  her  and 
kisses  her]  Now  you  must  be  strong! — Clara! — There  now! 
Don't  be  sorry  now!  You  must  remember  how  sorry  they 
have  been.  In  their  suffering  and  pain,  they  have  wanted  to 
spare  us.  Shouldn't  we,  then,  spare  them  now? 

CLARA.  Yes. 

SANG.  That's  why  this  attack  came.  So  that  we  might 
have  time  to  think.  Or  we  might  have  showed  bitterness 
toward  them.  Especially  I,  in  my  eagerness.  Where  is 
Rachel? 

HANNA.  She's  coming.  She  was  awake  with  Elias  till 
midnight. 

SANG.  Those  children,  those  children! — How  could  you — ? 
No,  no!  I  don't  want  to  know  it.  You  have  always  been 
honest.  What  you  have  done — you  had  to  do. 

ELIAS.  I  had  to.     But  it  was  dreadful. 

SANG.  Your  faith  came  too  easily,  here  with  me.  I  am  all 
emotion.  And  perhaps  this  is  the  beginning  of  a  faith  that 
cannot  be  lost. 

ELIAS.  I  feel  like  a  criminal — but  I  am  no  such  thing. 

SANG.  Do  you  think  I  could  doubt  you  for  a  moment,  my 
boy?  You  mustn't  misunderstand  because  I  cannot  quite  con- 
trol myself.  It  is  because  I  have  counted  so  much  on  your 
faith.  So  it  will  take  some  time  before  I —  No,  no,  no! 
Forgive  me,  Elias!  How  could  you  help  it?  [RACHEL  comes 
into  the  room  but  withdraws  shyly  to  the  background;  SANG  catches 
sight  of  her]  Rachel! — Oh,  Rachel!  [She  comes  forward  and 
kneels  beside  him]  Ever  since  you  were  a  little  child,  you  have 
given  me  more  faith  than  any  book —  How  can  this  be  pos- 
sible?— No,  if  they  have  been  able  to  win  her  over,  then  I 
must  know  the  way  of  it —  For  that  anybody  could  take  you 
from  me 


134  BEYOND   OUR  POWER      ACT  i.    sc.  vi 

RACHEL.  Not  from  you,  father! 

SANG.  Pardon  me!  Oh,  I  didn't  mean  to  hurt  you — 
Come  to  me!  [She  throws  herself  into  his  arms]  I  promise  you, 
children,  that  from  now  on,  I  shall  not  mention  this  matter 
again. — But  first  I  must  know — you  cannot  wonder  at  that 
— how  it  could  happen, 

ELIAS.  If  you  were  to  talk  with  me  for  days,  father — I 
don't  think  I  could  get  to  the  bottom  of  it! 

SANG.  No,  that's  beyond  me.  I  cannot  argue  about  faith. 
That's  something  I  don't  understand  at  all. 

ELIAS.  But  you  have  to  hear  me 

SANG.  If  it  can  be  of  help  to  you,  that's  another  matter. 
And  then  you  know  that  I  want  to  hear. — But  can't  you  tell 
me  briefly — just  in  a  few  words?  What  was  it  that  made  you 
— that — well — that  decided  you,  children? 

ELIAS.  I  think  I  can  tell  in  a  few  words.  Rachel  and  I 
— we  discovered  that  the  Christians  were  not  as  you  had  told 
us  they  should  be. 

SANG.  But,  children 

ELIAS.  You  sent  us  to  the  best  ones  you  knew.  And  I  do 
think  them  better  than  all  the  rest.  But  soon  Rachel  and  I 
agreed  on  something,  and  she  was  the  first  to  say  it:  there  is 
only  one  real  Christian,  and  that's  father! 

SANG.  Oh,  but,  children! 

ELIAS.  If  they  had  proved  a  little  more  or  a  little  less 
what  you  are — then  we  wouldn't  have  been  so  disappointed. 
But  they  are  something  else — something  entirely  different. 

SANG.  What  do  you  mean? 

ELIAS.  Their  Christianity  is  merely  a  convention.  In  their 
life  and  in  their  teachings,  they  bow  down  to  the  established 
order — to  the  order  established  in  their  own  time  and  place. 
To  institutions,  customs,  prejudices,  economical  conditions, 
and  all  sorts  of  things. — They  have  picked  out  every  loophole 


ACT  i.    sc.vi      BEYOND  OUR  POWER  135 

in  the  faith,  so  that  they  can  make  it  fit  in  with  whatever 
happens  to  be. 

SANG.  Are  you  not  too  severe? 

ELIAS.  You  seek  out  what  is  most  ideal  in  it,  and  strive  for 
that — and  this  makes  the  difference! 

SANG.  But,  dear  children,  what  have  you  to  do  with  this 
difference? 

ELIAS.  It  has  set  us  thinking,  father —  You  cannot  won- 
der at  that? 

SANG.  Think  as  much  as  you  please.  As  long  as  you  don't 
judge. 

RACHEL.  I  don't  think  we  have  been  judging.  And  do 
you  know  why?  Because  we  saw  that  their  teachings  were 
as  natural  to  them  as  yours  is  to  you. 

SANG.  Well ? 

ELIAS.  But  what  is  then  Christianity?  It  cannot  be  what 
they  teach? 

SANG.  Suppose  it  isn't?  What  does  it  matter?  When  they 
act  according  to  their  understanding? 

RACHEL.  But,  dear  father,  is  Christianity  then  something 
which  only  one  in  a  million  can  reach? 

ELIAS.  Must  all  the  rest  be  mere  bunglers  at  it? 

SANG.  Whom  do  you  call  a  Christian? 

ELIAS.  Him  alone  who,  from  Jesus,  has  learned  the  secret 
of  perfection,  and  who  is  striving  after  it  in  everything. 

SANG.  I  think  that  a  charming  definition!  You  have  some 
of  your  mother's  delicate  discernment! — Oh,  it  was  always 
my  cherished  dream  that  you  some  time —  No,  no,  no —  I 
have  given  you  my  promise,  children — and  I  shall  keep  it. 
You  were  saying — ?  Yes,  that's  good:  it's  splendid! — But 
listen,  my  son :  may  not  everybody  try  to  become  a  Christian 
without  being  called  a  bungler  on  that  account?  What  do 


136  BEYOND   OUR  POWER      ACT  i.     sc.  vi 

you  say?  Is  it  not  here  that  faith  helps  out — that  the  merits 
of  one  make  up  for  the  shortcomings  of  millions? 

ELIAS.  Now  you  have  said  it!  When  we  strive  with  our 
whole  heart — then  faith  does  the  rest. 

SANG.  Well,  then? 

ELIAS.  But  there  is  only  one  human  being  who  puts  this 
into  practice — and  that  one  is  you.  The  rest — oh,  don't  be 
afraid!  I  am  not  saying  this  to  accuse  anybody.  WThat 
right  have  I  to  do  so?  The  rest — either  they  ask  for  so  little 
that  their  peace  need  not  be  disturbed — they  do  just  what 
suits  them;  or  they  try  really — and  overreach  themselves. 
Yes,  that's  just  the  word! 

RACHEL.  Yes,  that's  the  word.  And  it  was  this  thing, 
father  dear,  that  made  me  say  to  Elias:  if  those  ideals  are  so 
little  suited  to  man's  powers  and  conditions  even  at  the  pres- 
ent time,  how  can  they  have  come  from  Him  who  is  om- 
niscient? 

SANG.  And  it  was  you  who  said  that? 

ELIAS.  We  could  not  dispose  of  Rachel's  doubts.  And  so 
we  began  to  study.  We  traced  those  ideals  backward  through 
history — and  we  were  carried  beyond  the  beginning  of  the 
Christian  era. 

RACHEL.  They  are — all  of  them — much  older  than  Chris- 
tianity. 

SANG.  I  know  it,  children. 

ELIAS.  Dreamers  proclaimed  them  long  before 

SANG.  Oriental  and  Greek  dreamers  proclaimed  them  in  a 
time  of  despair;  a  time  when  the  best  ones  longed  for  nothing 
but  to  flee  to  some  land  of  new  birth — just  to  get  away!  I 
know  it,  children. — So  this  was  what  made  you  fall?  Merci- 
ful heavens! — As  if  that  land  of  new  birth,  the  millennium, 
were  less  true  for  being  an  old,  an  immensely  ancient,  Oriental 
dream? — And  if  it  has  kept  us  waiting  so  long  for  its  coming 


ACT  i.    sc.vi      BEYOND  OUR  POWER  137 

that  weak  souls  are  beginning  to  call  it  an  impossible  dream — 
and  the  demands  that  lead  to  it,  impossible  ideals — what  does 
it  prove? — Nothing  about  the  faith,  but  much  about  those 
that  preach  it.  Oh,  yes — much  about  those  that  preach  it. — 
I  won't  speak  of  them,  but  will  only  tell  what  happened  to 
myself.  I  saw  that  Christianity  was  crawling  on  its  belly — 
and  carefully  dodging  every  little  hillock  at  that.  Why  can 
it  be  doing  so,  I  asked  myself.  Can  it  be  because — if  it  stood 
straight  up — it  would  pull  everything  off  its  hinges?  Is 
Christianity  impossible?  Or  don't  men  dare? — If  only  one 
dared — would  not  thousands  dare  with  him?  And  so  I  felt 
that  I  must  try  to  be  that  one  man.  And  I  think  everybody 
should  make  the  same  attempt.  Otherwise  he  is  not  a  true 
believer.  For  to  believe  is  to  know  that  nothing  is  impossible 
to  faith — and  then  to  show  this  faith. — Do  you  think  I  say 
this  as  a  boast?  No,  as  an  accusation  against  myself!  For 
although  so  much  grace  has  been  granted  me,  and  I  have 
built  so  high,  I,  too,  every  so  often,  fall  away  from  the  Lord. 
— Have  I  not  been  going  around  here  and  thought  it  impos- 
sible that  she  could  be  saved  by  me  alone?  Have  I  not  been 
distrustful  and  looking  to  others  for  help? — That's  why  God 
took  all  help  away  from  me.  For  this  reason  he  permitted 
that  you  also  should  stumble  over  "the  impossible,"  and  come 
and  tell  me  about  it.  For  in  such  manner  his  hour  had  to  be 
prepared.  Now  he  wants  to  show  us  all  what  is  possible! — 
Oh — how  I  have  misunderstood!  But  now  I  do  understand. 
I  must  do  it  alone!  Now  "the  command  has  come.  Now  I 
can  do  it. — That's  why  the  great  grace  of  preparedness  de- 
scended upon  me  just  this  morning!  Everything  fits  together 
now.  Do  you  hear,  Clara?  It  is  no  longer  I  speaking,  but 
the  great  certainty  that's  within  me — and  you  know  from 
whom  it  always  springs!  [Kneeling  beside  her]  Clara,  my 
precious  friend,  why  shouldn't  you  be  as  dear  to  the  Lord  as 


138  BEYOND   OUR  POWER      ACT  i.     sc.  vi 

anybody  that  believes  wholly?  As  if  the  Lord  were  not  the 
father  of  everybody. — The  Lord's  love  is  no  privilege  of  those 
that  believe.  The  privilege  of  those  that  believe  is  to  feel 
His  love  and  rejoice  in  it — and,  in  His  name,  to  make  the  im- 
possible possible. — You  patient,  you  faithful  one!  Now  I 
leave  you  in  order  to  try  it.  [He  rises  to  his  feet]  Yes,  to  try 
it!  I  am  going  over  to  the  church,  children,  because  I  want 
to  be  alone.  I  will  not  leave  it  again  until,  from  the  hands 
of  the  Lord,  I  have  received  sleep  for  your  mother;  and  after 
the  sleep,  health,  so  that  she  may  rise  up  and  walk  among 
us. — Be  not  afraid!  I  feel  within  me  that  he  will  grant  it! 
He  will  not  give  it  to  me  at  once,  for  this  time  I  have  doubted. 
But  I  shall  not  give  up —  I  shall  wait  for  my  Lord,  who  is 
stern  and  kind. — Good-bye!  [He  kneels  over  his  ivife  in  brief 
prayer]  Good-bye!  [He  kisses  her;  she  does  not  move;  he  gets 
up]  Thank  you,  children!  Now  you  have  helped  me  never- 
theless. More  than  anybody  could  guess.  Now  I  shall 
myself  ring  out  the  call  to  prayer.  At  the  first  sound  of  the 
bell  you  know  that  I  have  begun  to  pray  for  your  mother. 
Peace  be  with  you!  [SANG  goes  out. 

HANNA.  [Who  instinctively  has  opened  the  door  for  him]  This 
is — this  is [She  bursts  into  tears. 

ELIAS.  I  must  see — I  must  see  him  go  into  the  church. 

[Goes  out. 

RACHEL.  [Coming  forward]  Mother! — Oh,  mother! 

HANNA.  Don't  talk  to  her!  She  sees  you — but  don't  talk 
to  her! 

RACHEL.  I  am  afraid! 

HANNA.  From  here,  where  I  am  standing,  I  can  see  your 
father.  Now  he  will  soon  be  at  the  church —  Come! 

RACHEL.  No! — I  can  stand  it  no  longer!  I  am  afraid! — 
Mother! — She  is  looking  at  me,  but  she  doesn't  answer  me. — 
Mother! 


ACT  i.    sc.vi      BEYOND   OUR  POWER  139 

HANNA.  Be  quiet,  Rachel!  [The  bell  is  heard. 

RACHEL.  [Sinks  down  on  her  knees;   a  little  later  she  cries 
out,  but  in  a  subdued  tone]  My  God — Hanna! 
HANNA.  What  is  it? 
RACHEL.  Mother  is  asleep! 
HANNA.  She's  asleep? 
RACHEL.  Mother  is  asleep! 

HANNA.  Really ? 

RACHEL.  I  must  find  Elias.     I  must  tell  him  about  it! 

[She  goes  out. 
HANNA.  She  is  sleeping  like  a  child.     O  God! 

She  kneels  down;  then  a  rumbling  as  of  thunder  is  heard 

— prolonged,  deepening,  constantly  deepening,  growing 

more  and  more  awesome;  cries  are  heard  outside;  the 

house  is  trembling;  and  still  the  roar  is  increasing. 

RACHEL.  [Outside]  The  mountain  is  falling !  [Shrieks;  comes 

running  in]  The  mountain  is  falling  right  on  the  church!     On 

us — on   father — on   us!     It's   rolling,   it's   roaring — it's   like 

night — oh!  [She  cowers  down  and  hides  her  face. 

ELIAS.  [Outside]  Father!— Father!— Oh! 

HANNA.  [Beside  the  bed]  Now  it's  coming!    Now  it's  com- 


ing 


The  roar  is  at  its  loudest;  then  it  decreases  little  by  little; 
then  the  bell  is  heard  again. 

HANNA.  [Leaping  to  her  feet]  It's  still  ringing !    He's  alive! 

RACHEL.  He's  alive! 

ELIAS.  [Outside]  Father  is  alive!  [Coming  nearer]  The 
church  is  still  there!  [Comes  in]  The  church  is  still  there. 
Father  is  alive.  Right  in  front  of  the  church,  the  slide  turned 
aside — turned  to  the  left.  He's  alive,  he's  ringing  the  bell — 
O  God!  [He  throws  himself  down  beside  the  bed. 

RACHEL.  [Drawing  nearer]  Elias!  Mother ? 


140  BEYOND   OUR  POWER      ACT  i.     sc.  vi 

HANNA.  She's  sleeping! 

ELIAS.  [Jumps  up]  Is  she  sleeping? 

RACHEL.  Yes,  she's  sleeping —      [The  bell  continues  to  ring. 

HANNA.  She  is  sleeping  just  as  quietly! 

Curtain. 


ACT   II 

A  small  room,  with  walls  made  of  logs.  In  the  rear,  a  door 
opening  on  a  porch.  This  door  stands  wide  open,  disclosing 
a  view  of  a  narrow  landscape  abruptly  shut  off  by  a  bare 
mountain-side.  There  is  a  door  in  the  right  wall,  and  a  big 
window  in  the  left.  Above  the  door  leading  to  the  porch 
hangs  a  cross,  into  which,  under  a  glass  cover,  is  fitted  a 
gilded  crucifix.  In  the  foreground,  to  the  left,  stands  a  sofa, 
and  in  front  of  this  a  table  with  some  books  on  it.  Chairs 
are  placed  along  the  walls. 

FIRST    SCENE 

ELIAS  enters  from  the  porch,  moving  quickly  and  restlessly. 
He  wears  leather  breeches  and  low  shoes,  and  above  the 
breeches  nothing  but  a  shirt.  His  head  is  uncovered. 
He  stops  for  a  moment.  Then  he  goes  over  to  the  win- 
dow and  listens.  A  hymn  sung  by  a  male  voice  is 
plainly  heard,  though  coming  from  a  distance.  ELIAS 
is  deeply  moved.  RACHEL  enters  softly  through  the 
closed  door  on  the  right,  which  she  closes  again  behind 
her.  Her  brother  makes  a  sign  to  her  to  stop  and 
listen. 

RACHEL.  [Also  moved,  says  in  a  low  voice]  Let  me  open  the 
door  to  mother's  room. 

ELIAS.  [In  the  same  voice]  Is  mother  awake? 
RACHEL.  No,  but  she'll  hear  father.    [She  goes  out  to  the 
141 


142  BEYOND   OUR  POWER       ACT  n.    sc.  i 

right,  but  returns  soon  and  leaves  the  door  open  behind  her;  speaks 
in  a  very  low  tone]  She  smiled. 

ELIAS.  [As  before]  Oh,  Rachel! 

RACHEL.  [Showing  emotion]  Elias — don't  say  a  word — I 
cannot  bear  it! 

ELIAS.  Look  at  that,  Rachel!  Could  you  imagine  any- 
thing more  beautiful?  Hundreds  of  people  around  the 
church,  and  all  of  them  still  as  still  can  be.  And  in  there  he 
is  praying  and  singing  without  being  aware  of  the  people  out- 
side. The  windows  are  open,  but  they  are  set  too  high  for 
him  to  look  out.  And  those  without  are  scared  almost  to 
death  lest  he  hear  them  and  be  disturbed  by  it. — Look!  He 
was  speaking  of  a  prayer  chain.  All  those  people  around  the 
church — there  is  a  prayer  chain  for  you! 

RACHEL.  Yes.  [They  listen  to  the  song,  which  ceases  after  a 
while]  He  is  singing  a  great  deal  to-day. 

ELIAS.  Close  the  doors  now.  I  have  so  much  to  tell  you. 
I  have  been  here  twice  to  look  for  you. 

RACHEL.  [Goes  softly  out  to  the  right;  on  her  return,  she  closes 
the  door  behind  her;  then  she  says  in  somewhat  louder  voice]  A 
whole  lot  more  people  have  arrived  this  afternoon. 

ELIAS.  And  they  are  constantly  coming — from  miles  off! 
You  cannot  see  them  all,  for  many  of  them  are  in  the  groves, 
listening  to  the  lay  preachers.  They  don't  disturb  father  over 
there.  And  then  the  people  go  back  and  forth  between  the 
groves  and  the  church. — And  now,  look  over  there,  toward 
the  shore. 

RACHEL.  What  is  it?  The  ground  is  black  with  people. 
What  can  it  be? 

ELIAS.  It  is  the  mission  ship  that  has  just  come  in. 

RACHEL.  The  mission  ship? 

ELIAS.  Don't  you  know  that  a  lot  of  people  from  the  East 
have  rented  a  steamer  to  take  them  to  the  big  mission  con- 


ACTH.    sc.  i       BEYOND   OUR  POWER  143 

ference  in  the  city?  Now  that  steamer  is  at  anchor  in  the 
fiord. 

RACHEL.  Here? 

ELIAS.  Here! 

RACHEL.  But  why  do  they  come  here? 

ELIAS.  For  the  sake  of  the  miracle.  When  our  delegates — 
Pastor  Kroyer  and  another  man — boarded  the  ship  down  at 
the  pilot  station - 

RACHEL.  — then ? 

ELIAS.  — and  told  what  happened  here  yesterday,  and  how 
father  was  still  in  the  church,  all  by  himself,  praying 

RACHEL.  Now  I  see! 

ELIAS.  Then  not  a  soul  among  them  would  go  on,  but  all 
wanted  to  come  here  instead.  The  bishop  and  the  ministers 
begged  them  to  keep  their  words  and  promises.  But  they 
insisted  on  staying  here.  And  so  the  others  had  to  give  in. 
And  now  they  are  here. 

RACHEL.  The  ministers  also? 

ELIAS.  The  bishop  and  the  ministers — of  course! 

RACHEL.  But  they'll  not  come  in  to  us? — Elias,  you 
shouldn't  be  dressed  like  that. 

ELIAS.  I  can't  stand  clothes. 

RACHEL.  You  can't  stand ? 

ELIAS.  They  scorch  me.  And  then  I  have  a  craving — 
well,  as  if  I  wanted  to  walk  through  the  air.  I  can't  describe 
it,  but  sometimes  it  seems  as  if  I  could  do  it! 

RACHEL.  But,  Elias! 

ELIAS.  There  he  is!    There  he  goes  now! 

RACHEL.  Who?     That  man  over  there? 

ELIAS.  It  must  be  he!  Yes,  it  is!  They  carried  him  over 
here  this  morning,  sick  as  sick  can  be — and  now  he  is  walking 
about — there  you  can  see  him! — It  happened  this  morning, 
just  as  father  sang  for  the  first  time.  Nobody  had  expected 


144  BEYOND  OUR  POWER       ACT  n.    sc.  i 

him  to  sing.  It  made  all  of  us  burst  into  tears.  And  then 
the  sick  man  got  up  without  any  help.  We  didn't  notice  it 
until  he  was  walking  around  among  us. — Mother  will  also  get 
up,  Rachel!  I  can  see  it  as  if  it  were  already  happening. 

RACHEL.  Yes,  she  will  get  up.  I  have  expected  it  any 
moment.  But  I  tremble  when  I  think  of  it. — Why  are  you 
looking  at  me  like  that,  Elias? 

ELIAS.  Because — at  times,  when  you  speak,  it  seems  almost 
as  if  it  were  verse.  And  it's  the  same  when  the  others  talk. 

RACHEL.  But,  Elias 

ELIAS.  And  then  again — as  just  now — I  hear  nothing  but 
the  sound  of  what  you  say — not  the  meaning.  For  at  the 
same  time  I  hear  something — something  that  is  not  spoken. 

RACHEL.  That  is  not  spoken? 

ELIAS.  Most  often  it  seems  to  be  father  calling — calling  me 
by  name — as  he  did  yesterday  morning.  [With  emotion]  He 
had  something  in  his  mind  when  he  gave  me  that  name.  It 
sings  and  it  accuses — and  with  his  voice.  Incessantly,  at 
times.  It  haunts  me.  And  in  the  midst  of  it  I  feel  a  long- 
ing to  plunge  into  some  great  danger.  For  I  am  certain  that 
I  should  come  out  of  it  unharmed.  No,  don't  be  scared! 
Why,  there  is  nobody  here. 

RACHEL.  Come,  Elias,  and  sit  with  me  beside  mother. 
There  is  peace  in  her  presence. 

ELIAS.  I  cannot. — Rachel,  answer  me  before  God — search 
your  final,  your  subtlest  doubt,  and  answer  me:  is  this  a 
miracle  that  we  have  experienced  here? 

RACHEL.  Merciful  heavens,  Elias! — Why  do  you  always 
come  back  to  this? 

ELIAS.  But  is  it  not  dreadful  that  perhaps  the  only  two 
people  still  doubting  are  his  own  children? — Just  now  I  would 
give  my  life  to  feel  certain. 

RACHEL.  Don't,  Elias!     I  beg  you! 


ACTH.    sc.!       BEYOND  OUR  POWER  145 

ELIAS.  Tell  me  only  what  you  do  believe.  This  thing  with 
the  landslide?  It's  too  big  a  thing  to  be  merely  accident. 
Don't  you  think  so?  And  mother's  sleep?  The  moment  he 
began  to  ring  the  bell — sleep !  And  she  slept  in  spite  of  the 
landslide.  She  sleeps  as  long  as  he  is  praying. — Is  not  this  a 
miracle?  And  why  shouldn't  that  other  thing  have  been  a 
miracle  also — a  great  miracle? 

RACHEL.  I  almost  think  it  was,  Elias. 

ELIAS.  You  do? 

RACHEL.  But  I  am  none  the  less  afraid  of  it. 

ELIAS.  Afraid  of  it,  if  it  be  a  miracle?  But  then  you  don't 
believe  it  was  a  miracle? 

RACHEL.  Yes. 

ELIAS.  For  this  cannot  merely  depend  on  some  magnetic 
power  of  healing?  Or  on  the  power  of  his  personality?  No,  it 
must  be  something  more!  Is  it  a  miracle?  Do  you  feel  sure? 

RACHEL.  I  cannot  go  into  this  now.  It  was  to  escape  it 
that  I  sought  refuge  beside  mother.  Her  honesty  seems  to 
fill  up  the  whole  room  and  put  an  end  to  all  such  questions. — 
Now,  there  is  something  else  that  is  of  more  importance, 
Elias! 

ELIAS.  Something  else? 

RACHEL.  After  all  this!  What  will  come  next — when  she 
has  got  up?  For  that  is  not  the  end  of  it.  In  the  last  in- 
stance  

ELIAS.  In  the  last  instance? 

RACHEL.  In  the  last  instance  it  is  a  question  of  her  life! 

[She  begins  to  cry. 

ELIAS.  Rachel—?    My  God! 

RACHEL.  Mother  has  no  power  of  resistance  left.  And  he 
will  go  right  on — right  now! 

ELIAS.  With  what? 

RACHEL.  With  this — whatever  it  be! 


146  K  BEYOND   OUR  POWER      ACT  n.    sc.  n 

ELIAS.  But  suppose  it  be  a  miracle,  Rachel?     Why  need 
we  then  be  afraid? 

RACHEL.  I  cannot  overlook  the  consequences — to  mother 
and  father — to  all  of  us. — You  don't  understand  me  at  all? 
ELIAS.  No. 

RACHEL.  No!     But  to  me  it  does  not  matter  what  it  is. 
It  will  destroy  us.     It  will  kill  us  in  the  end! 
ELIAS.  The  miracle? 

RACHEL.  Yes,  yes!    There  is  no  blessing  in  it!    A  horror, 
that's  what  it  is! — Elias! 

[She  drags  him  into  the  middle  of  the  room. 
ELIAS.  What  is  it? 

RACHEL.  There  is  a  man  out  there  who  is  staring  right  at 
this  window — a  peculiar  man — so  very  pale — 

ELIAS.  In  a  coat  that  is  buttoned  all  the  way  up? 
RACHEL.  Yes. — [With  a  subdued  cry]  There  he  is  in  the 
room,  too! 

She  falls  back  as  if  she  were  facing  a  ghost,  and  finally 

she  takes  flight  into  her  mother's  room. 
ELIAS.  In  the  room? — Here? 

At  that  moment  a  STRANGER  walks  up  to  the  porch  from 
the  left,  crosses  the  threshold,  and  stands  still  just  inside 
the  door  while  he  searches  the  room  with  his  eyes. 


SECOND    SCENE 

ELIAS.  [As  the  STRANGER  appears]  Yes,  there  he  is! 

STRANGER.  Will  you  permit ? 

ELIAS.  Who  are  you? 

STRANGER.  Does  it  matter? 

ELIAS.  I  have  seen  you  here  since  yesterday. 

STRANGER.  Yes,  I  came  here  across  the  mountains. 


ACTH.    sc.m     BEYOND  OUR  POWER  147 

ELIAS.  Across  the  mountains? 

STRANGER.  I  saw  the  landslide  from  above. 

ELIAS.  Really? 

STRANGER.  And  I  heard  the  bell.  And  this  morning  I  saw 
the  sick  man  who  got  up  and  walked  when  your  father  sang — • 
And  now  I  want  to  ask:  is  your  mother  sleeping  in  there? 

ELIAS.  Yes.    But  not  in  the  next  room.    In  the  one  beyond. 

STRANGER.  But  if  she  should  get  up — then  she  would  come 
in  here?  She  would  turn  toward  the  church,  where  he  is — 
don't  you  think?  And  so  she'll  come — here? 

ELIAS.  Yes,  now  when  you  speak  of  it 

STRANGER.  And  so  I  ask  of  you — beg  of  you — may  I  be 
here?  Wait  here?  See  it?  I  have  been  filled  with  a  burning 
desire — and  now  I  cannot  resist  any  longer.  I'll  not  come  in 
again  until  driven  to  do  so.  I'll  not  stay  around  here — and 
be  in  the  way.  But  if  the  impulse  should  become  irresistible, 
to  come  in  here,  and  wait,  and  see — will  you  let  me? 

ELIAS.  Yes. 

STRANGER.  Thank  you! — And  I  want  to  tell  you:  this  day 
will  decide  my  whole  life! 

[He  goes  out  through  the  porch  to  the  right. 


THIRD    SCENE 

ELIAS.  This  day  will  decide  my  whole  life!  [KROYER  enters 
the  porch  from  the  left]  Kroyer,  did  you  see  him?  The  man 
to  the  right,  there? 

KROYER.  Yes,  who  was  he? 

ELIAS.  You  don't  know  him? 

KROYER.  No. 

ELIAS.  Certainly  a  remarkable  man! — This  day  will  decide 
my  whole  life!  O  Lord!  That's  the  word  for  me,  too! 


148  BEYOND  OUR  POWER     ACT  n.    sc.  m 

KROYER.  That's  what  I  expected,  Elias — that  this  day 
must  be  a  great  one  for  you.  Who  could  resist  what  is  hap- 
pening here?  If  it  were  nothing  but  these  hundreds  of  people 
praying  around  the  church;  and  he  within,  unconscious  of  the 
rest.  I  cannot  think  of  anything  more  beautiful! 

ELIAS.  Yes,  don't  you  think  so? — Oh,  I'll  throw  aside  all 
fear  and  doubt — this  day  will  decide!  What  a  word  that 
was! — I  have  struggled  and  suffered  without  getting  any- 
where. And  then  it  is  given  to  me!  And  at  once  I  feel  more 
at  peace. — I  want  to  talk  to  you ! 

KROYER.  No — not  now.     I  have  a  message  for  you. 

ELIAS.  For  me?     From  whom? 

KROYER.  I  have  just  returned  with  the  mission  ship. 

ELIAS.  I  know. 

KROYER.  And  now  the  bishop  and  the  ministers  are  asking 
if  they  can  have  the  use  of  this  room  for  an  hour  or  so? 

ELIAS.  For  what  purpose? 

KROYER.  They  feel  it  necessary  to  discuss  what  attitude 
they  are  to  take  toward  what's  happening  here.  And  we 
know  of  no  other  place  where  we  can  be  by  ourselves. — Yes, 
it's  no  use  getting  surprised.  We  professionals,  we  members 
of  the  preachers'  union,  must  try  to  look  more  rationally  at 
such  things  than  the  rest,  don't  you  know? 

ELIAS.  It  will  fill  the  room  with  a  lot  of  loathsome  discord. 

KROYER.  Which  may  turn  into  harmony.  For  who  can 
resist  the  miracle? 

ELIAS.  You  are  right!  And  yet — in  here?  As  if  they  were 
putting  a  wedge  between  my  father  and  my  mother?  And  if 
father  should  begin  to  sing  again?  Then  we  couldn't  open 
the  door  to  let  mother  hear? 

KROYER.  What  do  you  think  your  mother  or  your  father 
would  have  answered? 


xcrn.    Bc.iv     BEYOND   OUR  POWER  149 

ELIAS.  Yes — beyond  all  doubt.  You  are  right.  They  can 
have  the  room.  But  let  me  get  out  of  this. 

KROYER.  I'll  arrange  it.  Are  both  doors  closed  between 
this  and  your  mother's  room? 

ELIAS.  Yes. 

KROYER.  Then  I'll  close  the  window,  and  also  that  door, 
as  soon  as  they  are  here. 

ELIAS.  Let  them  lock  themselves  in!  I'll  go  out  to  the 
people  where  there  is  more  sympathy.  They  are  trustfully 
expecting  that  something  great  will  happen  to-day — and  per- 
haps they  will  not  have  to  wait  much  longer. 

KROYER.  [Following]  Shall  we  pray  for  that,  Elias? 

ELIAS.  Yes.    Now,  I  will  try!         [Both  go  out  to  the  left. 

FOURTH    SCENE1 

KsSYER.  [Comes  in  from  the  left]  Will  you  please  step  in? 
He  goes  over  to  the  window  and  closes  it;  in  the  meantime 
the  BISHOP  and  the  MINISTERS  enter;  then  KROYER 
goes  back  to  the  door  and  closes  it. 

(BLANK.  You,  Kroyer,  who  are  acquainted  in  this  house, 
can't  you  get  us  something  to  eat? 
BISHOP.  I  know  that  we  are  making  ourselves  ridiculous. 
But  the  truth  of  it  is  that  we  were  dreadfully  seasick. 
BREY.  We  couldn't  keep  anything  down. 
BISHOP.  And  when  we  got  into  smooth  water  at  last,  and 

they  had  just  begun  to  cook  something  for  us 

BREY.  Then  came  the  miracle! 
FALK.  I  am  so  frightfully  hungry. 

KROYER.  I  fear  nobody  in  this  place  has  given  any  thought 
to  food  to-day,  but  I'll  see.  [Goes  out. 

1  All  the  ministers,  and  especially  the  elderly  one  named  Blank,  speak  with  arti- 
ficial precision,  very  broad  vowel  sounds,  and  a  preaching  drawl,  as  if  they  were 
always  in  the  pulpit. 


150  BEYOND  OUR  POWER     ACT  n.    sc.  iv 

JENSEN.  I  have  regular  food  hallucinations.  I  have  read 
about  that  kind  of  thing — but  then  you  read  so  much  you 
cannot  believe.  It's  especially  partridges  I  see. 

FALK.  Partridges! 

JENSEN.  And  I  smell  them,  too:  broiled  partridges! 

BLANK.  Partridges? 

SEVERAL.  Are  we  going  to  have  partridges? 

KROYER.  [Returning,  speaks  while  still  in  the  doorway]  Sorry. 
I  looked  in  the  kitchen  and  in  the  dining-room  also.  Not  a 
thing.  And  no  people  around. 

BREY.  Not  a  single  soul? 

FALK.  I  am  so  frightfully  hungry. 

BISHOP.  Well,  my  dear  friends,  don't  let  us  become  alto- 
gether too  ridiculous.  We  have  to  submit  to  the  inevitable. 
Let  us  get  on.  Will  you  please  be  seated.  [He  seats  himself 
on  the  sofa;  the  others  take  chairs]  Very  briefly  and  very  quietly 
— for  we  know  that  this  is  the  habitation  of  a  very  sick  per- 
son— we  must  try  to  agree  how  to  behave  in  this  matter.  I 
have  always  held  the  opinion  that  the  minister — as  a  rule — 
should  remain  neutral  toward  any  excitement  of  this  kind. 
Neither  affirm  nor  deny  until  the  excitement  has  subsided 
sufficiently  to  permit  of  a  judgment.  For  this  reason  I  wish 
with  all  my  heart  that  we  might  have  gone  on.  But  we  were 
not  permitted  to  go  on. 

MINISTERS.  [In  murmurs  to  each  other]  We  were  not  per- 
mitted to  go  on !  No,  we  were  not  permitted  to  go  on. 

BISHOP.  Everybody  wanted  to  make  for  this  spot,  where 
the  miracle  was  supposed  to  be  at  home,  so  to  speak.  And  I 
don't  reproach  them  on  that  account.  But  being  with  them, 
on  board  the  same  ship,  our  opinion  will  be  demanded. 
And  when  we  reach  the  conference,  our  opinion  will  again  be 
asked  for. — What  is  it,  then? 


ACTH.    sc.iv     BEYOND  OUR  POWER  151 

KROYER.  If  you  permit  me — with  all  due  respect:  either  we 
believe  in  the  miracle,  and  act  accordingly;  or  we  don't  be- 
lieve in  it,  and  act  accordingly. 

BISHOP.  Hm? — There  is  a  third  way,  my  young  friend. 

MINISTERS.  [Murmuring  among  themselves]  There  is  a  third 
way!  Indeed,  there  is  a  third  way! 

BISHOP.  The  older  one  grows,  and  the  more  experienced, 
the  more  difficult  it  becomes  to  form  a  conviction — and  espe- 
cially in  regard  to  supernatural  things. — In  the  present  case, 
time  and  conditions  will  hardly  permit  an  investigation. 
And  suppose  we  were  to  arrive  at  conflicting  opinions? 
What  impression  do  you  think  a  clerical  fight  about  miracles 
would  make  in  these  days  of  scepticism?  A  fight  to  decide 
whether  or  no  miracles  are  worked  at  the  present  hour  some- 
where in  the  Northland? — I  see  my  old  friend  Blank  asking 
for  the  floor. 

BLANK.  If  I  have  understood  Your  Grace  right,  we  have 
no  need  of  first  deciding  whether  a  miracle  has  occurred  or 
not.  That  is  for  God,  our  father! 

BISHOP.  That  is  for  him!  That's  the  word !  I  thank  you, 
old  friend. 

BLANK.  I  maintain  that  miracles  are  as  much  regulated  by 
natural  law  as  anything  else,  although  we  cannot  see  the  law. 
I  maintain  exactly  the  same  thing  as  has  been  maintained  by 
Professor  Petersen.1 

FALK.  In  that  book  he  never  gets  published. 

BLANK.  But  which  he  will  get  published  some  time. — But 
if  it  be  as  I  said — what  importance  can  then  be  attached  to 
any  single  miracle — whether  near-sighted  creatures  like  our- 
selves can  see  it  or  not?  If  the  congregation  believes  it  sees 

1  Professor  Fr.  Petersen,  of  the  University  of  Christiania,  a  liberal  theologian  who, 
about  the  time  this  play  was  written,  tried  to  "reconcile  the  scientific  insistence  on 
universal  conformity  to  law  with  the  Christian  faith  in  miracles  "  (Just  Bing:  Norsk 
latteraturhistorie) . 


152  BEYOND   OUR   POWER     ACT  n.     sc.  iv 

a  miracle,  then  we'll  praise  the  Lord  together  with  the  con- 
gregation. 

BISHOP.  Then  you  want  to  acknowledge  the  miracle  after 
all? 

BLANK.  Neither  acknowledge  nor  refuse  to  do  so.  We 
merely  praise  the  Lord  together  with  the  congregation. 

BISHOP.  No,  my  old  friend,  we  cannot  get  out  of  this  by 
singing  hymns. 

MINISTERS.  [Murmuring  to  each  other]  We  can't  get  out  of 
this  by  singing  hymns.  No,  this  we  can't  get  out  of  by  singing 
hymns. 

BISHOP.  Mr.  Brey  has  the  floor. 

BRET.  Really,  I  cannot  understand  what  should  prevent  us 
from  acknowledging  the  miracle  at  once.  Is  it,  then,  so  rare? 
I  am  seeing  miracles  all  the  time.  In  our  congregation  we 
are  so  accustomed  to  them  that  the  strange  thing  would  be 
not  to  see  them. 

FALK.  I  wish  Brey  would  be  kind  enough  to  tell  us  some- 
thing about  the  miracles  that  happen  in  his  congregation. 

BISHOP.  No,  that  would  lead  us  too  far  afield. — You  got 
up — do  you  wish  to  speak? 

JENSEN.  Yes.  In  this  case  everything  depends  on  the  fact 
confronting  us.  Is  it  a  miracle — several,  perhaps — or  is  it 
no  miracle  at  all? 

KROYER.  Precisely. 

JENSEN.  Every  separate  miracle  must  be  investigated. 
But  to  do  so,  we  must  have  some  technical  evidence,  some  evi- 
dence of  a  medical  character,  or  perhaps  the  testimony  of 
witnesses  taken  down  by  a  reliable  lawyer.  With  this  at 
hand — then  only  can  we  ministers  safely  submit  our  spiritual 
evidence.  And  with  "spiritual"  I  don't  mean  the  kind  of 
thing  we  hear  from  lay  preachers  and  a  lot  of  other  people 
supposed  to  be  inspired  or  supplied  with  divine  grace.  As 


ACTH.    sc.  iv     BEYOND  OUR  POWER  153 

usual,  I  have  in  mind  plain,  solid,  sober  truth — and  the  more 
plain,  solid,  and  sober  it  be,  the  more  "spiritual"  it  will 
prove. 

FALK.  Hear! 

JENSEN.  Perhaps  it  will  be  found,  then,  that  a  miracle 
never  occurs  in  this  way.  Never!  It  does  not  occur  when  it  is 
expected  and  hailed  by  hundreds — nay,  thousands  perhaps — 
in  a  state  of  excitement  and  curiosity.  Yes,  curiosity!  The 
miracle  comes  in  an  honest,  plain,  quiet,  sober  way  to  those 
who  themselves  are  honest,  plain,  quiet,  sober. 

FALK.  This  is  as  if  it  were  spoken  out  of  my  own  heart! 

KROYER.  With  Falk's  permission,  I  should  like  to  point 
out  something.  Since  I  settled  here  as  minister,  I  have  re- 
peatedly seen  that  none  become  more  easily  the  prey  of  super- 
stition than  the  very  people  that  are  most  sober-minded. 

BLANK.  That's  just  my  experience!    Verily! 

KROYER.  Their  suspiciousness  makes  them  often  deny 
what  is  clearly  seen  by  everybody  else.  Instead  they  are  at- 
tacked from  behind,  so  to  speak,  by  mysterious  fears,  and 
thus  they  are  moved  by  things  wholly  invisible  to  the  rest  of 
us.  I  have  grown  to  think  that  the  craving  for  the  super- 
natural has  to  such  an  extent  become  a  heritage  of  man  that 
if  we  resist  it  in  one  way 

BLANK.  — it  gets  hold  of  us  in  another.  That's  just  what 
I  have  come  to  think. 

FALK.  Well,  whether  it  start  with  the  sober  or  the  sottish, 
I  want  to  ask  once  for  all,  if  this  means  that  we  are  now  to 
surrender  what  the  Church  has  gained  of  clearness  and  order, 
that  we  are  to  begin  once  more  to  flutter  about  like  or- 
dained night  owls? 

BREY.  Are  you  looking  at  me? 

[All  the  ministers  laugh  aloud. 

BISHOP,  Ssssshhh!    Let  us  remember  the  invalid! 


154  BEYOND   OUR  POWER     ACT  n.     ac.  iv 

FALK.  The  craving  for  miracles  is  to  the  exercise  of  the 
faith  what  this  activity  by  laymen  is  to  the  preaching  of  it — 
an  excrescence,  a  disorder — or,  if  we  go  to  the  bottom  of  it, 
an  atavism,  a  regurgitation! 

The  other  ministers  laugh  in  a  suppressed  way  until 
several  of  them  begin  to  cough. 

BISHOP.  Sssssshhhh! 

FALK.  A  miracle  not  acknowledged  by  the  clergy — not  ap- 
pointed and  confirmed,  so  to  speak,  by  the  highest  church 
authorities,  with  His  Majesty  the  King  at  their  head — is  to 
me  nothing  but  a  vagabond,  a  tramp,  a  sneak-thief. 

The  BISHOP  laughs  softly,  and  the  ministers  follow  his 
example,  while  watching  him  closely. 

FALK.  It  is  all  right  to  have  a  simple  mind.  I  had  it  once 
myself.  But  when,  as  in  my  case,  the  minister  in  a  big  city 
has  to  be  sad  with  the  bereaved  ones  around  the  grave  at  one 
o'clock,  and  merry  with  the  joyful  wedding  guests  at  three; 
when  he  has  to  sit  beside  a  poverty-stricken  deathbed  at  four, 
and  dine  in  the  Royal  Palace  at  five;  then  he  becomes  familiar 
with  the  infirmities  of  man.  And  what  he  learns  by  it  is  this : 
to  rely  very  little  on  persons,  and  very  much  on  institutions. — 
Where  the  miracle  appears,  there  all  institutions  perish  in  the 
revolt  of  the  feelings.  For  this  reason  the  Catholic  Church  has 
tried  to  make  an  institution  of  the  miracle  itself.  But  thereby 
it  has  forfeited  the  respect  of  all  intelligent  people,  so  that  only 
the  stupid  and  the  selfish  ones  remain  within  it. — Once  I  was 
in  a  company  of  ladies — only  myself  and  about  twenty  ladies. 
[Subdued  merriment]  One  of  these  ladies  became  hysterical, 
than  another,  then  a  third — six  in  all.  [Increasing  merriment] 
Then  I  poured  water  on  them — first  on  those  six — one  by  one 
[he  makes  a  motion  with  his  hand  as  if  pouring  out  water  several 
times] ;  but  afterward  on  several  of  the  rest,  too — for  that  kind 
of  thing  is  contagious.  ,  \Loud  laughter  follows. 


ACT  n.    sc.  iv     BEYOND  OUR  POWER  155 

BISHOP.  [Who  is  the  first  to  recover  himself]  Ssssshhhh! 
[Then  he  bursts  into  open  laughter  again,  and  the  rest  with  him; 
finally  he  recovers  his  composure  once  more]  Sssshhhh ! 

FALK.  I  think  that  is  the  most  wholesome  way.  Pour 
water  on  it! 

There  is  still  a  great  deal  of  laughter  and  discreet  coughing 
,    behind  handkerchiefs;  several  of  the  ministers  express 
eagerly  their  gratitude  to  FALK. 

KROYER.  Of  course,  we  know  Falk,  and  we  know  that  he 
means  what  is  right,  in  spite  of  his  peculiar  way  of  expressing 
himself.  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  if  he  should  see — 
well,  that  old  lady,  say — the  minister's  widow  who  is  now 
close  to  one  hundred  years  old — he  would  be  the  last  one  to 
pour  water  on  her — although  her  presence  among  us  is  like 
a  living  miracle,  and  her  faith  is  infecting  everybody.  The 
same  thing  holds  true  of  the  young  girl  Agot  Florvagen, 
who  is  looking  after  the  old  lady.  To  our  eyes,  to  our  hands, 
she  seemed  dead  and  cold.  And  he  prayed  over  her  and  made 
her  rise  up.  If  one  man  testify,  you  must  believe!  [General 
astonishment]  Both  of  them  are  here  now. 

SEVERAL.  They  are  here? 

KROYER.  Perhaps  they  will  come  into  this  very  room. 
They  are  on  their  way  to  this  house,  although  it  takes  them  a 
long  time.  The  old  lady  wants  to  see  for  herself — she  wants 
to  see  her  who  was  not  awakened  by  the  landslide. — Now,  you 
look  at  the  old  lady.  Talk  with  her.  Talk  with  the  girl  who 
attends  her.  The  replies  you  get  will  be  plain  and  honest  as 
her  own  face.  That  would  be  of  more  help  than  all  our  doc- 
trinal discussions.  I  do  not  say  this  in  a  spirit  of  reproach. 
I  used  to  think  as  you  do  now — up  to  the  time  I  became  a 
minister  in  these  parts.  Nobody  can  be  more  painfully  con- 
scious than  I  am  of  what  the  Church  has  had  to  relinquish,  of 
what  meagre  doctrines  and  false  constructions  are  left  to  us 


156  BEYOND   OUR  POWER     ACT  u.     sc.  iv 

— we  are  poor,  with  nothing  left  of  the  miracle — without  cour- 
age to  ask  for  a  miracle — and  we  have  to  pretend  either  that 
we  don't  care  for  it,  or  that  we  have  it  and  are  rich  in  the  pos- 
session of  it! — I  know  every  one  of  you  well  enough  to  know 
that  if  you  only  dared — if  you  could  feel  sure  of  witnessing  a 
miracle  so  great  that  it  met  the  test  once  for  all  prescribed 
by  the  Bible:  "All  who  saw  it  believed" — oh,  no  matter  how 
far  you  may  have  fallen  short  at  other  times,  then  you  would 
become  as  children,  you  would  surrender  yourselves  com- 
pletely, you  would  sacrifice  the  days  still  left  to  you — only 
to  proclaim  it!  [Considerable  emotion  is  shown,  especially  by 
the  older  men]  I  dare  to  make  these  confessions  on  your  behalf, 
my  brethren,  because  my  place  is  within  the  circle  of  the  spirit 
— that  circle  of  which  it  has  been  said:  either  within,  or  with- 
out! Once  within,  and  all  the  tricks  prompted  by  our  pov- 
erty will  collapse  on  their  own  accord,  and  we  shall  dare  to 
admit  the  truth! — What  will  be  left  of  Christianity,  if  we  de- 
clare the  miracle  lost  to  the  church? 

ELIAS.  [Entering  from  the  outside]  Pardon  me — there  is 
somebody  here  who  wants  to  look  at  my  mother.  It's  the 
old  widow  of  the  minister. 

All  rise.  In  the  doorway  appear  the  MINISTER'S 
WIDOW  and  AGOT.  ELIAS  opens  the  door  on  the 
right  and  disappears  through  it.  The  MINISTERS 
push  back  their  chairs  and  make  way  reverently  for  the 
old  lady. 

WIDOW.  [After  having  crossed  the  threshold]  Let  me  go, 
Agot. — Now  I  want  to  be  alone. — Quite  alone. — For  this  place 
has  been  visited  by  the  Lord — it  is  holy. — This  place  is  holy 
— here  you  stand  face  to  face — and  then  it  is  better  to  be 
alone.  [She  stands  now  so  that  she  can  look  through  the  doorway 
on  the  right  into  the  room  where  MRS.  SANG  is  lying;  she  drops  a 
curtsey;  then  she  raises  both  her  arms  in  an  outburst  of  exaltation; 


ACTH.    sc.  iv     BEYOND  OUR  POWER  157 

having  had  another  long  look,  she  curtseys  again,  turns  around, 
and  walks  toward  the  door  leading  to  the  porch]  She  was  white — 
radiantly  white — and  she  was  sleeping  like  a  child.  Now,  I 
have  seen — such  things  shed  light — oh,  how  they  shed  light  on 
everything! — Thank  you  for  letting  me  be  alone! 

AGOT.  But  were  you  alone? 

WIDOW.  Quite  alone.  Nobody  but  myself.  And  she  was 
radiantly  white.  [They  go  out  together. 

ELIAS.  [Coming  in  again  from  the  right]  Both  doors  are 
closed  again.  And  now  I'll  close  this  one,  too. 

He  goes  out;  the  MINISTERS  remain  standing,  without 
moving. 

KROYER.  You  didn't  speak  to  her? 

BISHOP.  No. 

KROYER.  There  is  a  light  on  every  face  as  of  sunshine. — 
I  can  tell  you  why:  people  on  whom  the  miracle  has  shed 
its  glamour,  reflect  the  light  of  it. — Let  us  talk  this  over. 

[They  move  together  and  sit  down  again. 

JENSEN.  May  I  ask  a  question? — Don't  you  look  upon, 
conversion  as  a  miracle? 

KROYER.  What  we  call  the  miracle  of  conversion  can  be 
traced  psychologically,  step  by  step,  and  for  that  reason  it  is 
no  miracle.  It  exists  in  other  great  religions,  as  well  as  in 
the  form  of  purely  moral  conversion,  although  the  latter  is  a 
silent  one.  But  a  Christianity  which  is  founded  on  a  wonder 
and  yet,  in  the  course  of  the  ages,  has  lost  its  power  of  work- 
ing miracles — what  is  it?  Nothing  but  moral  precepts. 

FALK.  The  characteristic  feature  of  Christianity  is  not  the 
miracle,  but  the  belief  in  resurrection. 

KROYER.  Which  all  the  great  religions  have;  which  is  com- 
mon to  all  people  with  religious  feeling. 

BISHOP.  What  is  your  idea  of  Christianity,  then? 

KROYER.  To  me  Christianity  is  infinitely  more  than  a  moral 


158  BEYOND   OUR  POWER     ACT  n.    sc.  iv 

code.  More  complete  and  more  refined  codes  of  this  kind 
may  be  found  outside  of  the  New  Testament.  To  me  it  is 
also  infinitely  more  than  the  power  of  consecration:  if  it  were 
not,  then  much  else  would  equal  it  in  rank. — Either  Christi- 
anity is  a  life  in  the  Lord  that  takes  us  beyond  this  world  and 
all  its  precepts,  or  it  is  nothing  at  all.  Either  it  is  something 
more  than  mere  consecration  to  an  idea  of  any  kind — that  is, 
it  must  be  a  new  world,  a  miracle — or  it  is  nothing  at  all.  [He 
sits  down,  trembling  and  exhausted]  There  was  so  much — I 
wanted  to  say — but — I  cannot. 

BISHOP.  My  dear  Krb'yer,  the  moment  you  came  aboard 
this  morning,  I  saw  that  you  were  overworked  and  ill.  But 
that's  what  happens  to  every  follower  of  Pastor  Sang. 

THE  STRANGER.  [Has  in  the  meantime  opened  the  door  in  the 
rear  and  entered  without  closing  the  door  again;  he  has  drawn 
nearer  step  by  step]  May  I  say  a  word? 
Att  turn  toward  him,  and  some  rise. 

BISHOP.  Is  that  you,  Bratt? 

SEVERAL.  Pastor  Bratt? 

OTHERS.  Is  that  Bratt? 

BISHOP.  You  didn't  come  with  us — how  did  you  get  herer 

BRATT.  Across  the  mountains. 

BISHOP.  Across  the  mountains?  You  are  not  going  to  the 
mission  conference  then? 

BRATT.  No,  I  wanted  to  come  here. 

BISHOP.  I  understand. 

BRATT.  It  is  the  miracle  that  I  am  seeking. — And  so  I  got 
here  yesterday  just  as  the  landslide  occurred.  I  was  up  there, 
only  a  little  way  off,  and  saw  everything.  And  I  heard  the 
ringing  of  the  bell. — And  I  have  been  here  ever  since. — And 
this  morning  I  saw  a  sick  man  carried  over  to  the  church,  and 
as  the  pastor  began  to  sing  within,  the  man  rose,  thanked 
God,  and  went  his  way.  May  I  speak? 


ACTH.    sc.iv     BEYOND  OUR  POWER  159 

BISHOP.  Of  course! 

BRATT.  For  I  am  a  man  in  distress,  and  I  am  coming  here 
to  ask  your  help,  brethren! 

BISHOP.  Speak,  dear  friend ! 

BRATT.  I  have  said  to  myself:  here  I  have  met  with  the 
miracle  at  last.  And  the  next  moment:  but  was  that  a 
miracle  after  all? — For  this  is  not  the  first  place  I  have  visited 
in  order  to  find  it.  With  blighted  hopes  I  have  turned  back 
from  every  spot  in  Europe  where  the  miracle  was  thought  to 
dwell.  Here,  of  course,  the  faith  is  bigger  and  simpler;  and 
the  man  is  great.  What  I  have  seen  here  has  taken  hold  of 
me  with  supernatural  power.  But  the  next  moment  doubt 
has  returned.  This  is  the  curse  that  rests  on  me,  you  see.  I 
have  incurred  it  by  the  seven  years  during  which,  as  minister, 
I  promised  the  miracle  to  those  who  would  believe.  I  prom- 
ised, because  thus  it  was  written — although  I  myself  doubted 
— for  I  had  never  seen  it  come  to  anybody  that  believed.  For 
seven  years  I  preached  that  in  which  I  did  not  have  faith 
myself — and  each  time  the  dark  days  returned  during  those 
seven  years — and  they  would  come,  just  as  did  the  wakeful 
nights — each  time,  because  of  my  promise,  I  prayed  with 
burning  fervour:  Where  is  that  miraculous  power  which  Thou 
hast  promised  Thy  believers?  [He  bursts  into  tears. 

BISHOP.  Oh,  you  lay  bare  everything.  And  that's  what 
you  have  always  done. 

BRATT.  In  binding  words,  each  one  stronger  than  the  other, 
He  has  declared  that  whosoever  will  believe  shall  possess  this 
power.  Yes,  the  power  of  deeds  greater  even  than  those  done 
by  the  Son  of  Man. — What  has  then  become  of  that  power? — • 
After  eighteen  hundred  years  of  passionate  labouring  for  the 
faith,  is  there  not  one  who  believes  in  such  measure  that  he 
can  produce  a  miracle  among  us?  Is  the  Lord's  own  promise 
not  yet  redeemed?  It  cannot  be  that  the  power  of  belief  has 


160  BEYOND   OUR   POWER      ACT  n.     sc.  iv 

been  weakened.  For  this  faculty  cannot  have  developed  con- 
trary to  all  other  racial  faculties — so  that  it  became  lessened 
by  constant  practice.  No:  after  more  than  eighteen  hundred 
years  of  Christian  preaching,  it  must  in  many,  many  families 
have  become  a  millennially  increased  heritage,  and  it  is  still 
further  multiplied  by  education.  And  yet  this  power  is  not 
strong  enough  to  bring  us  the  miracle?  All  the  merged  long- 
ings of  the  believing  ones  have  not  been  able  to  produce  one 
individual  with  a  miracle-working  power  strong  enough  to 
make  a  believer  of  every  one  beholding  it.  For  this  is  neces- 
sary; it  is  the  test  provided  by  the  Bible.  Time  and  again  it 
says:  "All  that  saw  it,  believed." — A  miracle  it  must  be  then, 
that  turns  all  who  see  it  into  believers.  But  instead  of  it, 
thousands  upon  thousands  are  falling  away.  For  in  spite  of 
the  promise,  the  miracle  is  not  forthcoming. — A  man  possess- 
ing the  knowledge  of  our  own  time,  an  educated  woman  of  the 
present  day — these  will  not  be  satisfied  with  what  was  un- 
questioningly  believed  by  men  and  women  of  the  past.  Not 
because  their  faculty  of  believing  has  grown  less,  but  because 
it  is  better  guarded.  Their  devotion  is  so  much  deeper  and 
more  intimate  in  character  that,  naturally,  properly,  it  is 
more  difficult  to  win.  He  who  does  win  it  will  have  the  best 
that  exists  so  far  on  this  earth  [^-Therefore  you  must  give  as 
much,  or  it  will  never  be  yours!  [The  ministers  exchange  re- 
marks in  whispers} — Religion  does  no  longer  constitute  man's 
only  ideal.  If,  at  least,  it  is  to  be  the  highest  one,  you  must 
prove  it  such.  Man  can  live  and  die  for  what  he  loves — for 
his  country,  his  family,  his  convictions.  And  as  these  things 
are  the  highest  of  all  that  exist  within  the  limits  of  the  nat- 
ural, and  as  you  want  to  show  him  something  still  higher 
— well  then,  you  must  pass  those  limits!  Show  him  the 
miracle! 

All  appear  strongly  moved. 


ACTH.    BC.IV     BEYOND  OUR  POWER  161 

FALK.  [Rising]  Somewhere  a  scornful  word  is  to  be  read 
about  the  race  that  will  not  believe  without  signs  and  wonders. 

BRATT.  And  do  you  know  the  answer  of  the  race? — "We 
ask  only  for  the  signs  promised  by  the  Lord  Himself — prom- 
ised to  whosoever  will  believe.  Or  is  there  not  yet  a  single 
one  among  you  that  really  believes?  What,  then,  do  you 
want  of  us?" — Yes,  that's  what  the  race  answers. — But  offer 
a  miracle  to  that  same  race — one  that  cannot  be  picked  to 
pieces  by  the  sharpest  tools  ever  shaped  by  doubt — one  of 
which  it  can  be  said:  "all  that  saw  it,  believed" — and  then 
you  may  yet  be  witnesses  of  the  fact  that  not  the  faculty  of 
belief  is  lacking,  but  the  miracle.  [Stir  among  the  ministers] 
Our  preaching  need  not  put  a  premium  on  credulity.  Faith 
has  more  roots,  and  stronger  ones,  even  in  the  keenest  sceptic. 
Can  anybody  familiar  with  civilised  man  be  ignorant  of  this? 
Is  there  any  minister  whose  experience  has  not  told  him  that, 
as  a  rule,  the  danger  lies  in  the  opposite  direction:  for  lack 
of  what  is  genuine,  men  put  their  faith  in  what  is  false. 

SEVERAL.  [In  subdued  voices]  That  is  true. 

BRATT.  If  a  miracle  appeared  among  us — one  so  great  that 
"all  who  saw  it,  believed" — ?  First  of  all,  the  vast  millions 
would  come  running — those  who  live  in  need  and  are  full  of 
longing — those  who  are  dissatisfied,  and  oppressed,  and  suffer- 
ing, and  hungering  for  justice. — If  they  were  to  hear  that  the 
Kingdom  of  God,  in  the  ancient  sense,  had  once  more  descended 
upon  the  earth — no  matter  where  it  be — then,  weeping  and  re- 
joicing— yes,  even  if  the  greater  number  of  them  should  know 
themselves  in  danger  of  dying  on  the  way — why,  they  would 
rather  die  on  that  way  than  go  on  living  on  any  other!  Then 
they  would  crawl  forth,  each  one  out  of  his  own  town,  his  own 
hut,  his  own  bed — the  sick  ones  in  the  lead — to  see  the  Lord 
revealed.  But  they  would  not  be  the  only  ones.  All  seekers 
after  truth  on  this  earth  would  follow  them.  First  of  all, 


162  BEYOND   OUR  POWER     ACT  n.    sc.  nr 

those  whose  craving  for  truth  is  greatest — all  profound,  seri- 
ous thinkers,  all  noble  minds.  Their  eagerness  would  be  the 
most  beautiful  to  behold;  their  faith,  of  most  importance.  It 
is  neither  the  craving  for  truth  nor  the  faculty  of  believing 
that  is  lacking  in  them:  it  is  the  miracle! — All  demand  cer- 
tainty and  peace  in  regard  to  life's  greatest  problems.  Even 
the  thoughtless,  and  those  who  have  put  such  problems  aside 
as  useless  or  futile.  All  of  them,  without  exception,  have  been 
brought  up  to  long  for  more  than  knowledge — that  is,  for 
something  in  which  to  believe.  But  first  of  all  you  must  fur- 
nish them  with  a  guarantee! — a  guarantee  that  what  you 
preach  is  true!  If  they  see  this,  then  they  will  also  believe 
in  what  they  do  not  see. — That's  the  way  it  has  been  from  the 
beginning.  Those  who  now  will  be  satisfied  with  less — with 
personal  experience  alone — they  are  like  Mohammedans  and 
Jews  and  Buddhists.  These,  too — all  of  them — appeal  to 
their  own  personal  experience.  But  what  is  lacking  is  the 
guarantee  that  such  experiences  are  universally  valid.  And 
it  is  this  that  I  am  seeking!  For  it  has  been  promised  us! — • 
O  God,  my  God,  now  comes  the  final  test! 

BISHOP.  Bratt,  Bratt! 

BRATT.  The  final  test.  For  further  struggle  is  beyond  my 
strength.  I  shall  resign  from  the  ministry — resign  from  the 

Church  and  from  the  faith — if,  if,  if ! 

[He  bursts  into  tears  again. 

BISHOP.  My  dear  son !    You  mustn't 

BRATT.  No,  don't  speak  to  me — I  beg  you!  Help  me  to 
pray  instead!  For  if  the  miracle  be  not  here,  it  cannot  be 
anywhere!  This  man  is  more  than  other  men;  he  is  the 
noblest  one  the  earth  has  borne.  A  faith  like  his  nobody  has 
ever  seen.  Nor  was  there  ever  seen  a  faith  like  that  aroused 
by  his  faith. 

ALL.  It  is  true! 


ACTH.    sc.iv     BEYOND  OUR  POWER  163 

BRATT.  And  it  is  easy  to  understand.  He  was  wealthy 
when  he  came  here.  He  has  given  all  away.  The  number  of 
times  he  has  risked  his  life  to  bring  help  to  others  cannot  be 
counted.  The  miracles  which  he  is  believed  to  have  worked 
are  equally  numberless.  But  just  because  they  were  so  many, 
I  could  not  believe  in  them. 

SEVERAL.  [In  low  voices]  That's  just  what  happened  to  me! 

BRATT.  Perhaps  the  right  thing  would  have  been  to  think 
the  very  opposite?  That  here  exists  what  really  is  meant  by 
"faith"?  That  the  essence  of  faith  is  the  miracle?  That  it 
must  work  miracles?  Perhaps  that  is  how  we  should  have 
thought  of  it? — And  whatsoever  our  thoughts  should  have 
been — we  should  not  have  regarded  him  with  that  professional 
scepticism  which,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  was  shown  by  myself. 
His  love  and  his  faith  should  have  made  me  humble.  I  have 
to  accuse  myself,  and  in  my  heart  I  am  sincerely  asking  his 
pardon. 

ALL  THE  MINISTERS.  [Without  exception]  I  also!    I  also! 

BRATT.  We  know  no  better  man;  there  is  no  stronger  faith 
than  his:  suppose  the  miracle  were  found  here? 
General  emotion. 

JENSEN.  [In  a  whisper]  Look  at  the  cross  above  the  door! 
Is  it  the  evening  sun — or  what  is  it? 

BRATT.  I  don't  know.  But  you  may  be  sure  that  if  we 
meet  the  miracle,  then  the  meeting  will  be  attended  by  thou- 
sands unseen  by  us.  If  only  it  be  granted  us  to  be  there! — • 
If  only  it  be  granted  us  to  be  there!  Think  of  it:  to  witness 
something  so  great  that  "all  who  see  it,  believe!"  And  we 
were  to  witness  such  a  thing — you,  and  you,  and  I?  It  is  too 
much!  It  cannot  be  possible! — But  if  it  prove  possible — • 
then  there  can  be  no  one  else  in  our  day,  brethren — oh,  full  of 
shortcomings,  and  lacking  in  faith,  lacking  in  love,  as  we 
are 


164  BEYOND   OUR  POWER     ACT  n.    sc.  iv 

ALL.  Yes,  yes ! 

BRATT.  Then,  in  spite  of  all,  there  can  be  none  on  whom 
grace  has  been  more  richly  bestowed;  then  we,  unworthy  ones, 
must  be  especially  chosen!  [Deep  general  emotion] — And  as  I 
look  out  upon  this  hemmed-in,  barren  land  of  the  fiords,  with 
the  screaming  gulls  overhead,  and  as  the  thought  comes  to  me, 
that  the  Kingdom  of  God  began  in  the  luxuriant  regions  of 
countries  steeped  in  sun,  through  which  ran  the  highroads  of 
the  world :  what  a  proof  it  would  be  to  see  it  resumed,  in  all  its 
grandeur,  in  a  poverty-stricken,  outlying  corner  like  this,  on 
the  edge  of  the  everlasting  ice 

FALK.  [Gets  up,  pale  as  death,  and  whispers]  Yes,  yes! 

SEVERAL.  Yes,  yes! 

BRATT.  Then  it  seems  to  me  that  everything  fits  together, 
and  that  the  miracle  must  come. 
All  are  now  on  their  feet. 

BISHOP.  [In  a  low  voice]  Oh,  that  it  would  come,  so  that  I 
might  see  it  in  my  old  age! 

BLANK.  Yes,  if  only  the  great  faith  would  seize  us!  Not 
because  we  have  deserved  to  see;  but  because  we  need  it! 

[He  falls  on  his  knees;  others  follow  his  example. 

BHATT.  Because  the  whole  race  needs  it!  More  than  at 
any  other  time.  Because  it  has  been  promised.  Because 
here  it  must  be,  if  it  be  anywhere.  [He  kneels]  His  faith  must 
be  able  to  reach  it!  There  is  no  greater  faith  than  his  on 
earth!  And  faith  can  do  it !  Oh,  it  can! 

ALL.  It  can,  it  can! 

BRATT.  If  it  couldn't — then  the  whole  thing  would  be  im- 
possible. Then  there  would  be  no  truth  in  the  rest  either. 
Then  there  would  be  something  excessive  in  all  of  it — some- 
thing beyond  our  power 


ACTH.    sc.v      BEYOND   OUR  POWER  165 

FIFTH    SCENE 

RACHEL.  [Is  heard  calling  in  a  scared  voice  from  the  room 
on  the  right]  Elias!  [Immediately  afterward  she  enters  in  great 
haste  through  the  door  on  the  right  and  runs  across  the  room  to 
the  window,  which  she  flings  open,  as  she  cries  out  with  all  her 
might]  Elias!  [Thereupon  she  throws  herself  backward  so  that 
she  would  fall  if  she  were  not  caught  by  KROYER;  she  bursts  into 
violent  weeping,  but  struggles  to  her  feet  again  and  points  toward 
the  other  room  in  evident  terror]  There!  In  there!  She  is  no 
longer  alone! — See — don't  you  see!  [All  have  risen;  at  that 
moment  ELIAS  appears  on  the  porch;  as  she  catches  sight  of  him, 
RACHEL  tears  herself  loose  from  KBOYEB  and  runs  to  meet  her 
brother,  crying]  Mother!  Mother! 

ELIAS.  Has  she  risen? 

RACHEL.  Yes,  yes. 

ELIAS.  And  she  walks? 

RACHEL.  Yes!    But  she  is  not  alone! 

ELIAS.  This  must  be  told ! 

RACHEL.  But  not  to  father! 

ELIAS.  No — from  the  roof,  from  the  belfry — it  must  be 
rung  out  to  the  whole  world!  [He  runs  out. 

RACHEL.  But  you  have  no  ladder!  [As  he  fails  to  reply,  she 
repeats  in  alarm]  You  have  no  ladder,  don't  you  hear? 

KROYER.  [Makes  a  silencing  gesture  and  says  in  a  low 
voice]  Hush! 

BISHOP.  [Whispering]  Oh,  listen! 

SANG.  [7*  heard  singing  in  the  church: 
Alleluia,  alleluia! 
Alleluia,  alleluia! 

ALL.  [Kneel  down,  whispering]  He  knows  it!  He  knows  it! 
At  that  moment  CLARA  appears  in  a  white  night-dress;  her 


166  BEYOND   OUR  POWER      ACT  n.    sc.  v 

eyes  are  turned  toward  the  church;  she  stops  and  reaches 
out  her  arms  as  if  to  meet  the  song. 
ALL  THE  MINISTERS.  [Singing  very  softly: 
Alleluia,  alleluia! 
Alleluia,  alleluia! 

RACHEL.  [In  the  porch]  Now  father  is  at  the  church  door. 
SANG.  [His  voice  is  now  heard  strong  and  clear: 
Alleluia,  alleluia! 
Alleluia,  alleluia! 

The  church  bell  begins  to  ring,  and  all  the  people  outside 
join  in  the  singing.  There  is  a  triumphant  force  in 
their  song  as  if  it  sprang  from  a  thousand  throats.  It 
is  increasing  in  strength,  for  the  people  who  were  in  the 
groves  come  running  to  join  those  at  the  church.  For 
a  while  it  seems  as  if  the  "alleluias"  would  lift  the 
house  off  its  foundations. 

SANG  appears  in  the  doorway.     His  face  is  lighted  up  by 

the  rays  of  the  evening  sun.    All  rise  and  Jail  back.    He 

holds  out  both  arms  toward  CLARA,  who  is  standing  in 

the  middle  of  the  room.     Her  arms  are  stretched  out  in 

response.    Then  he  goes  to  her  and  takes  her  in  his  arms. 

All  around  them  the  song  is  pouring  forth.     The  room  is 

full  of  people,  and  so  is  the  porch;  some  have  climbed  up 

on  the  shoulders  of  those  in  front  of  them,  and  others 

are  standing  on  the  window-sill. 

Then  CLARA  collapses  in  her  husband's  arms.     The  song 

dies  out.     Only  the  bell  is  still  heard. 
CLARA  makes  an  effort  to  rise  up  again,  but  succeeds  only 

in  raising  her  head  so  that  her  eyes  can  meet  his. 
CLARA.  Light  flowed  from  you — when  you  came — oh,  my 
beloved! 

Her  head  sinks  back,  her  arms  lose  their  hold,  her  entire 
body  collapses. 


ACTH.    sc.  v      BEYOND   OUR  POWER  167 

SANG.  [Still  holding  her,  puts  a  hand  over  her  heart;  then  he 
bends  over  her  body  in  surprise;  finally  he  looks  up  toward  the 
sky,  saying  with  childlike  innocence]  But  this  was  not  the 
meaning  of  it — ?  [He  sinks  down  on  one  knee  and  puts  CLARA'S 
head  on  the  other;  once  more  he  searches  for  signs  of  life;  then  he 
lets  the  body  gently  sink  to  the  floor;  and  rising  to  his  feet,  he  looks 
up  again  as  he  says]  But  this  was  not  the  meaning  of  it — ? 

Or—?    Or ? 

He  puts  his  hand  to  his  heart  and  sinks  down  on  the  floor. 
RACHEL  has  been  standing  as  if  turned  into  stone;  now  a 
wild  cry  breaks  over  her  lips  as  she  sinks  on  her  knees 
beside  the  bodies  of  her  parents. 

KROYER.  What  did  he  mean — by  that  word — "or "? 

BRATT.  I  don't  know  with  certainty.     But  it  killed  him. 
RACHEL.  Dead? — It  is  impossible! 
The  bell  continues  to  ring. 

Curtain. 


THE    NEW    SYSTEM 

(DET    NY    SYSTEM); 
1879 


CHARACTERS 

Rus,  Director-General  of  Railroads 

KAMMA  Rns,  born  RAVN,*  his  wife 

FREDERICK,  their  son 

KAREN,  their  daughter 

KAMPE,  engineer 

HANS,  his  son,  engineer 

FREDERICK  RAVN,  canal  inspector 

LARSSEN,  chief  clerk 

KARL  RAVN,  engineer 

ANNA,  his  wife 

MRS.  OLE  RAVN,  mother  of  ANNA,  known  as  "Aunt  Ole" 

PREUSS,  engineer 

MRS.  PREUSS,  born  RAVN 

MRS.  THOMAS,  born  RAVN 

MRS.  STANCE,  born  RAVN 

KAHRS,  engineer 

LANGE,  engineer 

KRAFT,  engineer. 

CHAIRMAN  OF  THE  COMMITTEE  ON  RAILROADS 

Miss  NORA  HOLM 

Miss  LISE  GRAN 

A  MAN-SERVANT  of  the  RUSES 

A  MAID  of  the  RUSES 

MARIE,  maid  at  KAMPE'S 

Several  dinner  guests 

1  The  name  RAVN  means  RAVEN. 


ACT    I 

A  large  room  open  to  the  rear  and  adjoining  a  veranda  that  looks 
out  over  the  sea.  The  background  shows  a  number  of  small 
islands  and  the  outlines  of  the  shore. 

FIRST    SCENE 

KAMPE,  his  son  HANS,  and  FREDERICK  RAVN  are  seated 
around  a  table. 

RAVN.  Now  let  me  tell  you  this.  When  you  attack  the 
Director-General  (for  an  attack  on  his  "new  system"  is  an 
attack  on  himself — although  the  system  is  neither  his  nor 
new) — when  you  attack  the  Director-General 

KAMPE.  Say,  let's  have  a  glass  of  something — Marie! 

HANS.  Not  now,  dad.  It's  too  warm.  [.4s  MARIE  en- 
ters] Please  get  us  a  couple  of  bottles  of  seltzer. 

RAVN.  No,  listen  to  me  now.  When  you  attack  my  es- 
teemed brother-in-law's  "new  system"  (which  is  neither  his 
nor  new),  then  you  forget  what  a  Director-General  means  in 
our  small  circumstances. 

KAMPE.  Quite  right! 

RAVN.  You  act  like  a  man  who  has  been  away  from  home 
seven  years. 

KAMPE.  That's  it! 

RAVN.  You  act  like  one  who  has  been  in  America. 
171 


172  THE   NEW   SYSTEM        ACT  i.     sc.  i 

KAMPE.  All  right! 

RAVN.  You  think  you  can  bring  home  with  you  the  frank- 
ness which  they  use  out  there,  and  also  the  results  which  such 
frankness  produces  in  big  countries.  It  means  that  you  are 
acting  like  a  fool. 

KAMPE.  I  am  not  so  sure  of  the  conclusion 

HANS.  I  have  talked  with  engineers  who  differed  from  you. 

RAVN.  It  must  have  been  some  credulous  scatter-brains 
like  my  nephew  Karl.  No,  the  engineers  in  this  country  are 
like  all  the  rest.  Either  they  have  public  employment  or 
they  are  looking  for  it.  And  if  they  are  doing  private  work, 
then  they  either  have  made  a  success  of  it  or  they  want  to  do 
so — and  in  neither  case  do  they  care  to  quarrel  with  those  in 
power. 

HANS.  When  I  think  of  all  those  I  met  while  studying 
abroad 

RAVN.  Most  of  whom  are  married  by  this  time.  And  the 
women  know  even  better  than  the  men  on  which  side  their 
bread  is  buttered. — Please  remember  that  you  have  come 
home.  Here  you  meet  with  the  small  souls  of  small  circum- 
stances. And  they  grow  scantily  and  uniformly  as  turnips  in 
a  field. 

KAMPE.  Oh,  I  think  we  should  have  something  strong  on 
top  of  this. — Marie! 

HANS.  No,  dad.  It's  too  early  in  the  day.  [To  MARIE, 
who  enters]  Bring  us  some  cigars.  Of  course,  I  have  to  admit 
that  it  is  harder  to  tell  the  truth  in  small  circumstances. 

RAVN.  Harder?    It's  impossible! 

KAMPE.  Hm — 

RAVN.  Well,  you  are  thinking  of  truths  that  measure 
twenty  to  an  inch.  But  the  big  truths  that  might  lead  to  an 
explosion — they  are  not  told. 

KAMPE,  Oh,  they  are  told 


ACT  i.    sc.i       THE  NEW  SYSTEM  173 

RAVN.  Yes,  told,  but  they  fizzle  out  like  powder  set  off  in 
the  open.  I  assure  you  that  a  small  state  couldn't  stand  the 
chemical  process  started  by  a  powerful  truth.  It  would  go  to 
pieces,  darn  it!  No,  stronger  retorts  are  needed  for  that  kind 
of  thing. 

HANS.  The  world's  greatest  truth  came  out  of  a  small 
people. 

RAVN.  Which  also  dutifully  went  to  pieces. 

HANS.  Not  for  that  reason. 

KAMPE.  But  this  is  getting  awfully  dry.  Hadn't  we  bet- 
ter  ? 

HANS.  Dad  is  right 

KAMPE.  Well,  at  last! 

HANS.  We  are  getting  away  from  the  subject. 

KAMPE.  Ugh! 

HANS.  I  know  we  are  going  to  meet  with  difficulties;  that 
they  will  evade  the  subject  and  resort  to  personalities.  But 
if  I  can  stand  it ? 

RAVN.  Oh,  you  have  got  it  all  wrong!  Well,  I  said  to  your 
father:  don't  let  the  boy  stay  away  so  long,  I  said;  and  don't 
let  him  get  so  far  away.  He  will  have  to  pay  for  it  when  he 
comes  home. — Isn't  that  so? 

KAMPE.  Yes. 

Rises  and  walks  back  and  forth  a  couple  of  times;  then 
he  saunters  out  of  the  room,  trying  to  appear  as  if  he 
had  no  special  purpose  in  mind. 

RAVN.  Now,  it  is  enough  in  itself  that  you  have  made  this 
attack  on  a  man  of  authority  quite  openly  and  with  his  name 
used 

HANS.  But  such  things  have  happened  before. 

RAVN.  Of  course,  they  have.  But  when  you,  a  young  man 
without  reputation — Oh,  pish,  the  whole  thing  will  just  peter 
out. 


174  THE  NEW  SYSTEM       ACT  i.    sc.  i 

HANS.  Not  while  I  am  alive. 

RAVN.  Yes,  be  the  whole  show! 

HANS.  I  shall  keep  on  until  parties  are  formed  for  and 
against — or  perhaps  no  parties  are  ever  formed  in  "our  small 
circumstances,"  as  you  call  them? 

RAVN.  Oh,  yes,  and  with  all  the  rottenness  that  goes  with 
them — yes,  indeed! 

HANS.  Just  as  in  the  big  countries. 

RAVN.  Not  in  the  same  way.  There  is  real  conflict  out 
there,  often  on  a  tremendous  scale,  and  with  it  goes  always  a 
sense  of  spiritual  uplift.  You  don't  mind  a  little  dirt  spat- 
tered over  you,  when  all  your  faculties  are  strained  to  the 
utmost.  Yes,  then  you  don't  even  mind  wounds  and  prison 
walls.  You  go  to  defeat  or  victory  in  company  with  thou- 
sands. The  flag  is  always  held  on  high,  and  it  draws  new 
hosts  from  every  new  generation.  In  that  Way  characters  are 
formed,  and  firm  wills.  In  that  way  you  get  statesmen, 
artists,  writers,  who  have  insight  and  purpose.  But  here? 
Just  look  at  the  same  kind  of  men  here — a  small  group  of 
broken,  sick,  embittered  fellows,  with  whom  it  is  almost  im- 
possible to  co-operate — and  then,  here  and  there,  a  man 
standing  wholly  alone. 

HANS.  But  when  they  conquer  at  last ? 

RAVN.  Conquer?  Oh,  mercy!  Where  there  is  no  fight 
there  can  be  no  victory.  A  lot  of  abuse  and  misrepresenta- 
tion, of  falsehood  and  hypocrisy;  some  stir  and  noise;  but  no 
fighting!  It  is  as  I  told  you;  a  small  country  couldn't  even 
stand  it.  The  slender  threads  out  of  which  it  is  cautiously 
crocheted  together  would  be  torn  to  pieces — ugh! 

[Rises  to  his  feet. 

HANS.  Well,  doubt  and  discouragement  have  certainly 
done  their  worst  with  you! 

RAVN.  You  think  so? 


ACT  i.    sc.  i       THE  NEW  SYSTEM  175 

HANS.  I  do.  For  I  can  still  recall  how  confident  you  used 
to  be — as  confident  as  your  nephew  Karl  is  now. 

RAVN.  Oh,  his  turn  will  come,  too. 

HANS.  In  those  days  you  used  to  sparkle — sparkle  like  a 
diamond.  [Smiles. 

RAVN.  But  it  has  been  badly  handled  in  the  setting,  boy. 
If  you  knock  it  and  hammer  it  too  carelessly,  it  breaks  into 
fragments.  A  simile,  by  the  by,  that  fits  the  case  pretty 
well.  It  is  particularly  fitted  to  a  family  of  enthusiasts  in 
small  circumstances. 

HANS.  But  this  "family  of  enthusiasts,"  as  you  call  it,  has 
nevertheless  reached  both  fame  and  wealth. 

RAVN.  That  happened  in  the  old  stirring  days — long  ago. 
And  our  fate  has  been  that  of  other  great  men — who  also  had 
enthusiasm.  Perhaps  you  haven't  noticed  it?  But  if  it  be 
true  that  great  nations  cannot  exist  without  sacrificing  thou- 
sands and  thousands  of  their  humblest  members — then  it  is 
just  as  true  that  small  nations  cannot  exist  without  sacrificing 
a  certain  number  of  their  great  and  greatest! 

HANS.  Hm! 

RAVN.  See  for  yourself!  To  achieve  success  here  you 
must  have  a  will  that  is  thoroughly  tamed  or  very  crafty. 
No  man  can  reach  the  heights  here  unless  he  has  the  insinu- 
ating smile  of  a  woman. 

HANS.  Are  you  thinking  of  your  brother-in-law? 

RAVN.  No.  As  far  as  I  can  see,  he  smiles  no  more  than 
anybody  else.  But  have  you  noticed  his  son — my  namesake 
— Frederick?  Why,  that  rascal  is  really  named  after  me — • 
Oh,  well,  that  was  long  ago! 

HANS.  Well,  what  of  him? 

RAVN.  Oh — what  a  tone!     So,  you  have  heard? 

HANS.  You  mean  this  thing  with ? 

RAVN.  Speak  up! 


176  THE  NEW  SYSTEM      ACT  i.    sc.  n 

HANS.  Speak  up  yourself! 

RAVN.  So  I  can:  you  mean  Anna,  my  landlady's  daughter 
— who  has  to  go  to  America  now. 

HANS.  Yes,  I  have  heard  of  it. 

RAVN.  But  he  has  already  learned  how  to  smile. 

HANS.  I  am  sure  Frederick  will  make  a  success  of  it.  Yes- 
terday I  heard  that  his  father  and  Holste — the  cabinet  min- 
ister, you  know — had  come  to  an  understanding. 

RAVN.  Quite  likely.     That's  what  the  father  did  himself. 

HANS.  What  do  you  mean?     Did  he  also ? 

RAVN.  Desert  a  poor  girl  for  the  sake  of  his  career — ex- 
actly! And  do  you  know  who  it  was?  Anna's  aunt. 

HANS.  Our  old  Marie? 

RAVN.  Sh!    I  think  somebody  is  coming. 

HANS.  Karen! 


SECOND    SCENE 

KAREN  Rus  enters.     KAMPE  follows  a  little  later. 

KAREN.  Pardon  me! 

HANS.  Miss  Ri — you  here? 

RAVN.  Well,  well! 

KAREN.  The  road  runs  right  by  here. 

HANS.  Of  course!  But  we  have  never  before  been  hon- 
oured— at  least  not  since  my  return. 

KAREN.  A  couple  of  my  friends  and  I  were  going  to — 
How  d'you  do,  uncle?- 

RAVN.  Hello,  my  dear. 

KAREN.  We  were  passing  by,  and  we  thought  it  would  be 
such  fun  to  go  out  rowing — please,  can  we  have  the  boat? 

HANS.  With  the  greatest  pleasure!  That  is,  I  think  my 
father  has  the  key.  But  I'll 


ACT  i.    sc.  n      THE   NEW  SYSTEM  177 

RAVN.  There's  the  old  man  now. 

KAREN.  Good  evening! 

KAMPE.  [Entering]  Good  evening,  Miss  Riis.     Why ? 

KAREN.  Can  Nora  Holm  and  Lise  Gran  and  I  have  the 
boat  for  a  little  while? 

KAMPE.  If  you  can  have  the  boat — ?  To  lie  out  there 
reading  novels? 

HANS.  Of  course,  you  can  have  the  boat!  Let  me  have  the 
key,  and  I'll 

KAMPE.  Oh,  I'll  see  to  that!  [As  he  goes  out]  Hm,  hm,  they 
are  going  to  lie  out  there  reading 

KAREN.  Everything  is  as  it  used  to  be  here. 

HANS.  Do  you  think  so? 

KAREN.  Good-bye! 

HANS.  Good-bye!  It  was  pleasant  to  have  a  look  at  you 
at  least. 

KAREN.  One  wouldn't  think  so,  seeing  that  you  never  visit 
us  any  more. — Good-bye,  uncle! 

RAVN.  Good-bye — and  be  careful,  now! 

KAREN.  [To  HANS]  And  Frederick  likes  you  so  much,  you 
know. 

KAMPE.  [Outside]  So  it  was  a  novel,  after  all?  That's  what 
I  thought. 

KAREN.  [Running  to  the  door]  You  are  not  reading  while  I 
am  away,  are  you,  girls? 

HANS.  [Going  after  her]  Is  it  as  interesting  as  all  that? 

KAMPE.  [Outside]  A  story  of  life-saving! 

HANS.  Oh,  a  life-saving  story? 

KAREN.  [With  a  laugh]  Yes,  and  a  woman  who  saves  a 
man  at  that — just  for  a  change.  Good-bye!  [Goes  out. 

HANS.  Good-bye!  [Stands  looking  after  her. 


178  THE  NEW  SYSTEM     ACT  i.    sc.  m 

THIRD    SCENE 
HANS.    RAVN.    Later  KAMPE. 

RAVN.  [Goes  over  to  HANS  and  slaps  him  on  the  shoulder]  And 
with  such  a  pretty  view  before  your  eyes,  you  intend  to 
attack  her  father? 

HANS.  Not  him!  Only  his  system.  I  shall  be  very  careful, 
you  know. 

RAVN.  Ho,  ho — ye-es!  No,  you  had  better  let  Karen  be  the 
woman  who  "saves  a  man,"  and  for  heaven's  sake  let  that 
man  be  yourself,  Hans! 

HANS.  But  that's  worse  than  a  joke!  I  can  prove  that 
this  so-called  "new  system"  is  costing  the  country  millions. 
I  am  the  only  one  who  has  gone  to  the  bottom  of  the  matter. 
Or  at  least,  I  am  the  only  one  who  is  willing  to  tell  the  truth. 
And  then  you  advise  me  to  keep  silent — and  to  marry  his 
daughter.  And  you  say  that's  better! 

RAVN.  Well,  hang  it,  I  wouldn't  advise  you  that  way  if  I 
didn't  think  it  better  for  the  cause  itself,  too.  An  attack  at 
this  early  moment,  and  without  any  authority  to  back  it,  will 
spoil  everything.  Wait! 

HANS.  For  what? 

RAVN.  For  the  rest  of  the  world,  my  boy!  When  the  big 
countries  have  tried  it  out,  then — say,  in  ten  or  twenty  years 
— it  will  be  almost  ready  for  our  acceptance  also.  Wait  until 
the  time  when  the  judgment  of  the  world  at  large  is  quietly 
being  unloaded  at  our  docks  together  with  bales  of  cotton  and 
silk  and  feathers  and  other  noiseless  goods.  On  its  own  in- 
itiative a  small  nation  dares  nothing! 

HANS.  And  yet  the  system  was  adopted. 

RAVN.  And  why?     Because  the  engineers  of  other  coun- 


ACT  i.    sc.  ni     THE   NEW  SYSTEM  179 

tries  actually  recommended  it  to  begin  with — fooled  into  doing 
so  by  one  of  our  own  men — the  idiot! 

KAMPE.  [Entering]  Why,  are  you  still  at  it?  The  deuce 
take  it,  then  you've  got  to  have  something  to  refresh  yourself 
with.  I  have  just  discovered  a  bottle.  [Going  to  the  door. 

HANS.  Dad! 

KAMPE.  Keep  quiet,  boy!  [Out. 

RAVN.  I  have  tried  it,  I  can  tell  you.     And  it's  of  no  use! 

HANS.  Hm! 

RAVN.  And  now  you  are  going  to  try  that,  too!  Well,  well! 
You  have  come  home  with  your  head  full  of  illusions.  So  did 
I  also  once  upon  a  time.  But  that  was  long  ago — And  look 
at  your  father.  In  railroad  matters  he  is  beyond  a  doubt 
our  cleverest  man — the  man  who  has  done  most. 

HANS.  That's  what  I  think.     He  actually  astonishes  me ! 

RAVN.  Yes,  but  he  wasn't  "presentable,"  as  they  put  it. 
And  why  not?'  Because,  like  you,  he  began  by  telling  the 
truth — that's  why!  And  it  made  a  drunkard  out  of  him.  It 
was  all  he  gained  by  it. 

HANS.  Hush! 

KAMPE.  [Enters]  Here's  the  bottle!     Come  on!    Don't  be 

pig-headed  now !     A  bottle  like  this  can  put  some  colour  into 

small  conditions.     It  can  even  make  them  look  big.     Here's 

to  you!  [Drinks. 

RAVN  follows  his  example.     HANS  looks  out  over  the  sea. 

KAMPE.  He's  got  his  eye  on  those  novel-reading  little  girls 
out  there. 

RAVN.  You  didn't  treat  them  very  well,  did  you? 

KAMPE.  Oh,  I  happened  to  think  of  how  they  are  reading 
novels  all  the  time,  and  always  about  courage,  and  enthu- 
siasm, and  that  kind  of  thing — and  for  all  that  they  are  noth- 
ing but  a  lot  of  mincing  good-for-nothings. 


180  THE  NEW  SYSTEM     ACT  i.    sc.  m 

RAVN.  It's  hardly  to  be  wondered  at.  They  live  in  condi- 
tions where  nobody  ever  dares  anything,  not  as  much  as  a 
contradiction  even. 

HANS.  [Interrupting]  I  vouch  for  Karen.  I  can  remember 
how  she  ran  away  from  home  as  a  child  because  her  father 
wanted  her  to  do  something  she  didn't  think  right.  Then  she 
came  to  me,  and  I  had  to  row  her  far,  far  away. 

KAMPE.  I  remember  it  also. 

RAVN.  [Who  has  picked  up  his  stick]  Karen  has  more  of  our 
blood.  But  upbringing,  conditions — oh,  you'll  learn  all 
about  it  now.  You  just  publish  that  book  of  yours!  Good- 
bye! [Holds  out  his  hands  to  HANS. 

HANS.  [Without  taking  it]  There  is  one  factor  you  con- 
stantly overlook  when  you  speak  of  my  book:  the  Diet. 

RAVN.  The  Diet?  No,  I  don't  overlook  it  at  all.  Why,  I 
am  a  member  of  it  myself. 

HANS.  I  am  going  to  present  my  case  in  such  clear  light 

RAVN.  Good-bye,  Hans.  It  was  nice  of  you  to  ask  for  my 
advice. 

HANS.  And  it  will  be  what  you  have  said? 

RAVN.  Absolutely. 

KAMPE.  Don't  you  want ? 

RAVN.  No,  thank  you.     Good-bye! 

KAMPE.  Good-bye! 

RAVN.  [To  HANS,  who  is  seeing  him  out]  And  what  about 
your  father?  When  your  book  appears,  every  engineer  will 
understand  that  he  has  made  the  calculations.  He  will  be 
discharged. 

HANS.  That's  just  what  I  am  going  to  have  a  talk  with  him 
about. 

RAVN.  All  right.     Good-night!  [He  goes  out. 


ACT  i.    sc.  iv     THE  NEW  SYSTEM  181 

FOURTH    SCENE 
KAMPE.    HANS. 

KAMPE.  Well?    What  do  you  think  of  him? 

HANS.  What  bitterness! 

KAMPE.  There's  a  lot  of  the  same  kind  around  here. 

HANS.  And  he  used  to  be  such  an  enthusiast — like  all  the 
rest  of  the  family. 

KAMPE.  Heaven  only  knows  what  happens  to  the  enthu- 
siasts in  this  country.  That's  the  way  they  all  end. — Well, 
well!  God  help  the  whole  lot  of  us!  [Takes  a  drink. 

HANS.  Dad! 

KAMPE.  Yes. 

HANS.  Don't  do  it! 

KAMPE.  What? 

HANS.  That! 

KAMPE  [Taking  another  drink]  Stuff  and  nonsense,  boy! 
It's  all  over  with  me.  And  I  cannot  stand  any  kind  of  so- 
lemnity. 

HANS.  But  if  I  don't  want  it 

KAMPE.  Not  another  word!  Let  us  talk  of  you.  You'll 
have  to  face  everything  I've  told  you.  But  that's  no  reason 
why  you  should  turn  back.  If  we  don't  start  some  time  to 
speak  up  in  this  country,  each  one  in  his  corner,  we'll  never 
get  anywhere.  Now  that's  my  new  system. 

HANS.  It's  old  as  the  hills 

KAMPE.  But  remains  always  new.  Tell  the  truth  I  And  let 
come  what  must. — Do  you  know  after  whom  you  were 
named? 

HANS.  No. 

KAMPE.  I'll   tell  you.     I  broke  into  your  mother's  fine 


182  THE  NEW  SYSTEM      ACT  i.    sc.  iv 

family.  There  I  didn't  feel  very  much  at  home.  And  it  was 
the  family  that  influenced  your  mother  so  that  I  didn't  have 
a  chance  to  push  ahead  the  way  I  wanted.  Well — I  used  to 
go  hunting  when  it  became  too  much  for  me.  And  for  com- 
panion I  took  along  old  Hans,  the  cottager,  and  a  more  honest 
man  I  never  met.  It's  after  him  you  were  named.  I  invited 
him  to  the  party  we  gave  when  you  were  baptised,  and  I  even 
proposed  a  toast  for  him — great  scandal — but  lots  of  fun ! — He 
used  to  say  when  we  were  crawling  along  after  reindeer  out 
on  the  bare  rocks,  and  the  fall  winds  were  like  razors,  and  we 
got  near  enough  to  shoot:  'Give  it  to  'em,  boy!' — And  that's 
what  I  say  to  you! 

HANS.  I  am  not  going  to  give  it  to  them,  as  you  call  it. 

KAMPE.  Call  it  anything  you  please!  But  stick  to  it! 
That's  what  I  didn't  do. — And  now  enough  of  that! 

[Takes  a  drink. 

HANS.  But  I  won't  stick  to  it.     For  I'll  never  start. 

KAMPE.  You  won't  start?  What's  that?  You  don't  mean 
to  say  that  his  cawing  really  scared  you? 

HANS.  No,  but  you  scare  me,  dad. 

KAMPE.  I? — Oh — my  example,  you  mean?  Never  mind 
that,  Hans!  You  won't  fall  down  where  I  fell.  And  I  don't 
want  any  kind  of  solemnity! — What  have  you  got  to  do 
with  me? 

HANS.  Dad! 

KAMPE.  Twaddle!  I  have  helped  you  along.  And  no- 
body has  had  more  pleasure  in  it  than  I.  You  'tend  to  yours, 
and  I'll  'tend  to  mine — [preparing  another  glass] — and  at 
night  I  get  myself  a  little  'night-cap'  before  I  go  to  bed. 
What's  that  to  you? 

HANS.  All  right — then  I'll  get  myself  a  'night-cap'  also. 

[Picks  up  a  glass  and  reaches  out  for  the  bottle. 

KAMPE.  You,  Hans? 


ACT  i.    sc.  iv      THE   NEW  SYSTEM  183 

HANS.  Yes,  I  have  come  home  to  share  your  life  in. every 
respect. 

KAMPE.  You  mean  to  do  like  me ?  [Stops  short. 

HANS.  Like  you,  I'll  go  to  bed  drunk  every  night  and  sleep 
it  off  beside  you. 

KAMPE.  I  forbid  you  to  do  so,  Hans — !  Oh,  you  ought  not 
to  joke  like  that,  Hans, — you  quite  frightened  me. 

HANS.  But  if  I  start  with  anything  while  you  are  keeping 
up  this  kind  of  thing — where  will  it  end  for  me? 

KAMPE.  What  the  devil  have  you  got  to  do  with  me? 

HANS.  And  you  ask  that,  who  have  encouraged  me  into  at- 
tempting something  of  a  reformation.  What  would  people 
say?  "Why  should  he  do  any  reforming?  Let  him  at  least 
begin  with  it  in  his  own  home!" 

KAMPE.  You  think  they'll  say 

HANS.  Don't  you  know  the  conditions  we  are  living  in? 
They'll  lose  no  time  in  finding  out  who  I  am,  that  I  am  not  a 
reliable  person,  that  I  am  the  son  of  a [Stops. 

KAMPE.  Drunkard.  Speak  out! — Well,  as  far  as  that  is 
concerned,  there  is  nothing  to  do  about  it.  You  have  to 
bear  it. 

HANS.  Bear  it?  Oh,  no!  To  bring  my  own  father  into  bad 
repute — that's  something  I  cannot  strive  for. 

KAMPE.  It  can't  become  worse  than  it  is.  Listen,  Hans: 
when  your  mother  couldn't — Oh,  quit  all  this! — Don't  you 
think  I  have  tried? — Lord  Jesus! 

HANS.  As  long  as  you  have  not  tried  to  place  yourself  in  a 
new,  independent  position,  which  would  occupy  you  fully,  you 
have  not  tried  at  all. 

KAMPE.  What  have  you  in  mind? 

HANS.  You  know  I  have  accepted  the  agency  for  one  of  the 
biggest  machinery  concerns  in  America  and  England. 


184  THE   NEW   SYSTEM      ACT  i.     sc.  iv 

KAMPE.  Yes,  and  I  don't  like  it.  You  are  built  for  bigger 
things. 

HANS.  But  I  have  done  this  for  you. 

KAMPE.  For  me? 

HANS.  You  are  to  run  the  business.  We  two  will  go  into 
partnership.  The  firm  will  be  Kampe  &  Son.  I  am  never 
again  going  to  leave  you,  dad,  not  for  a  single  day,  and  this  I 
say  right  to  your  face  in  remembrance  of  mother. 

KAMPE.  Hans,  my  boy — !  But  it  won't  go.  And  you 
are  not  to  throw  yourself  away  for  my  sake. 

HANS.  Throw  myself  away?  No,  if  there  be  any  way  for 
me  to  do  something  real  big,  it  lies  here.  You  can  be  sure  I 
see  that  clearly. 

KAMPE.  Hans,  my  boy! — Oh,  that  you  are  home  again — 
No,  this  is  madness,  solemnity.  I  should  be  fooling  you.  I 
know  myself. 

HANS.  But  I  won't  let  go  on  that  account.  I  have  a  better 
chance  than  mother  had  to  be  with  you  all  the  time. 

KAMPE.  I  should  only  become  a  burden  to  you,  Hans — and 
to  myself  also. — Yes,  indeed,  I  could  tell  you  a  thing  or  two — 
but  that  will  have  to  be  some  other  time.  Ugh!  This  sort 

of  thing  takes  it  out  of  you — I  think  I'll  have  to 

[Goes  toward  the  table. 

HANS.  Dad! 

KAMPE.  Well,  there  you  see.  It  has  gone  so  far  with  me 
that  I  don't  know  myself  when  I  am  doing  it.  And  it's  for 
me  you  would  sacrifice  your  future?  Stuff,  rot — leave  me 
alone!  [Goes  toward  the  table  again. 

HANS.  And  if  mother  was  still  alive,  dad? 

KAMPE.  Do  you  want  to  hurt  me?  Do  you  think  I  haven't 
thought  of  it [Covers  his  face  with  his  hands. 

HANS.  I  cannot  see  how  you  could  go  on  after  mother  was 
dead 


ACT  i.    sc.iv      THE   NEW  SYSTEM  185 

KAMPE.  Will  you  keep  quiet?  You  don't  understand  at 
all.  It  was  then  it  became  worse  than  ever — But  I  don't 
want  to  go  on  talking  of  this.  I  won't  have  any  interference. 

HANS.  Dad! 

KAMPE.  You  have  no  right.  Don't  I  attend  to  my  work? 
The  rest  is  my  own  concern.  I  owe  nobody  an  account. 
Nobody! 

HANS.  What  is  the  matter  with  you  now? 

KAMPE.  Well,  I  can't  stand  this  kind  of  thing.  Who  but 
myself  can  understand  why  I  do  it?  I  need  it.  That's  all 
there  is  to  it.  And  I  don't  ask  anybody's  permission. 

[Takes  a  drink. 

HANS.  No,  this  is  more  than  7  can  stand ! 

KAMPE.  If  you  only  knew  what  I  have  stood  for  your  sake! 

HANS.  You — for  my  sake? 

KAMPE.  A  while  ago  you  said  I  stood  in  the  way  of  your 
future. 

HANS.  Oh,  no 

KAMPE.  Well,  that's  what  it  came  to.  You  had  made  up 
your  mind  not  to  bear  with  me  any  longer. 

HANS.  But,  dad ! 

KAMPE.  Now  I  am  going  to  balance  the  account.  I  had  a 
son  somewhere  out  in  the  big  world,  and  for  his  sake  I  had  to 
work.  But  this  work  had  become  a  hell  on  earth.  I,  who 
had  done  what  placed  the  bigwigs  where  they  now  are,  I 
was  to  be  disposed  of.  I,  who  had  once  been  held  indispen- 
sable, was  given  all  kinds  of  odd  jobs  to  do,  and  was  finally 
shunted  into  a  sort  of  double-faced  position  as  inspector  and 
cashier  for  new  constructions.  I  had  to  stick  it  out,  for  my 
son  was  constantly  asking  for  still  another  trip,  still  another 
year. — Much  that  looks  nasty  can  be  drowned  in  a  full  glass, 
you  know.  That's  just  what  happened.  And  you  are  the 
last  one,  you  know,  who  has  a  right  to  say  anything  about  it. 


186  THE   NEW   SYSTEM      ACT  i.     sc.  iv 

— What  I  have  stood  for  your  sake,  you  will  never  have  to 
stand  for  mine.     So  you  had  better  keep  quiet. 

Goes  over  to  the  table  and  begins  again  to  prepare  a  glass 
for  himself. 

HANS.  Well,  if  you  drink  any  more,  dad,  I'll  go. 

KAMPE.  Now  you  are  on  the  wrong  tack.  I  won't  submit 
to  any  commands. 

HANS.  I  am  not  trying  to  command  you.     But  I'll  go. 

KAMPE.  Go?     Where? 

HANS.  Away,  and  for  ever. 

KAMPE.  Have  you  no  heart? — All  right,  go  on! 

HANS.  Merciful  heavens!  Do  you  dare  to  call  me  heartless 
because  I  cannot  bear  to  see  you  like  that? — Here  I  come 
home  without  an  idea  of  the  way  things  have  gone.  Then  I 
offer  you  my  future — not  as  a  duty,  or  a  sacrifice,  or  what  you 
call  it.  Never  was  a  thought  more  dear  to  me  than  that  of 
doing  so.  Never  have  I  been  so  proud  of  anything  as  of  the 
hope  that  I  might  help  you  into  your  own  once  more. 

KAMPE.  Hans! 

HANS.  And  then  you  won't  listen  to  me  even.  You 
won't  give  me  time  to  finish  what  I  have  to  say.  Yes,  you 
don't  even  hesitate  to  put  the  fault  on  me.  Under  such 
circumstances  there  is  nothing  for  me  to  do  here.  And  it  is 
dangerous  to  stay  here — I  have  felt  it  already.  So  I  guess 
I'll  be  going  again,  dad. 

KAMPE.  You  don't  understand  me.  When  I  belittle  my- 
self, it  is  in  order  not  to  make  myself  out  better  than  I  am. 
Rather  worse,  so  that  I  don't  deceive  you. 

HANS.  But  are  you  not  willing  to  try? 

KAMPE.  O  Lord,  when  I  know  it  is  impossible !     0-oh! 

HANS.  Will  you  listen  to  me? 

KAMPE.  Yes. 


ACT  i.     sc.  iv      THE   NEW   SYSTEM  187 

HANS.  We  are  at  the  end  of  the  quarter.  You  have  just 
settled  your  accounts.  Write  out  your  letter  of  resignation 
this  minute,  right  here.  If  they  want  to  kick  up  a  rumpus 
about  it,  don't  mind  them.  They  are  only  getting  what  they 
deserve.  We  pack  this  very  evening,  and  leave  to-morrow — 
then  a  month  or  two  abroad! 

KAMPE.  Hans! 

HANS.  In  the  meantime  my  book  is  printed.  We  come 
back,  publish  it — and  start  business.  Your  name  will  make 
the  firm  respected.  We  shall  be  our  own  masters.  We'll 
fight  for  what  both  of  us  believe  in — and  we'll  work.  What 
do  you  say  of  it,  dad? 

KAMPE.  Oh,  what  a  dream!  If  it  could  only  be  done, 
Hans — oh! 

HANS.  But  you  want  to  see  it  done? 

KAMPE.  What  a  question!  But  I  have  sunk  too  deep 
already. 

HANS.  That  remains  to  be  seen.  There  is  still  such  a  lot 
of  power  in  you,  dad. 

KAMPE.  Do  you  think  so? 

HANS.  Now,  let  us  get  out  of  this — quick! 

KAMPE.  If  I  only  dared  to  trust  myself ! 

HANS.  It  should  help  you  to  think  that  I  am  merely  your- 
self as  you  were  when  you  were  young.  Will  you  do  it? 

KAMPE.  If  I  will ?  But  I  don't  dare.  I'll  sneak  out 

of  it — I  know  it! 

HANS.  But  we  shall  always  be  together. 

KAMPE.  Oh,  it  would  be 

VOICE.  [Heard  from  the  outside]  Help!  Bring  the  boat  this 
way! 

BOTH.  It  comes  from  the  shore? 

HANS.  Somebody  bathing! 


188  THE   NEW   SYSTEM        ACT  i.     sc.v 

VOICE.  Help! 

KAMPE.  He  is  caught  in  the  sea- weed!     He  is  drowning! 

HANS.  But  there  is  a  boat  coming.  No,  it's  going  away 
again!  What  do  they  mean  by  it?  [Runs  out. 

KAMPE.  [Running]  The  young  ladies!  They're  rowing 
ashore!  What  was  it  I  said?  [Outside]  Come  here  with  the 
boat!  This  way! — Now,  row!  Keep  together! 

VOICE.  Help!    Help! 

KAMPE.  [Outside]  We're  coming  now! 


FIFTH    SCENE 

KAREN  RIIS.  NORA  HOLM.  LISE  GRAN.  They  en- 
ter from  the  left,  all  badly  frightened.  KAREN  runs 
back  and  forth. 

NORA.  Do  you  see  him? — I  don't  dare  to  look  out! 

LISE.  No,  he  has  gone  down! 

BOTH  THE  OTHERS.  Gone  down! 

KAREN.  We  should  have  saved  him. 

NORA.  [Weeping]  But,  Karen,  we  couldn't! 

KAREN.  It  wasn't  right,  it  wasn't  right,  it  wasn't  right! 
I'll  never  have  peace  again  in  all  my  life. — Can  you  see  him? 

LISE.  No. 

NORA.  They  generally  come  up  again  twice. 

LISE.  But  he  is  caught  in  the  weed. 

KAREN.  That's  so.  Oh,  that's  so. — Isn't  the  boat  getting 
there? 

LISE.  There  it  is! 

NORA.  There  it  is! 

KAREN.  God  be  thanked! 

LISE.  Just  where  he  went  down! 


ACT  i.    BC.VI      THE  NEW  SYSTEM  189 

NORA.  The  old  man  jumps  in! 

KAREN.  0-oh! —  [Silence. 

NORA.  [In  a  whisper]  How  long  he  is  gone! 

LISE.  There  he  comes ! 

KAREN.  [Joining  LISE]  Has  he  got  him? — Yes! 

LISE.  Now  he  haj  hold  of  the  boat! 

ALL.  [Cry  out,  taking  hold  of  each  other. 

NORA.  It's  upsetting! 

LISE.  No,  the  old  man  let  go! 

KAREN.  Hans  is  holding  on  to  the  man. 

NORA.  There  is  the  old  man  on  the  other  side  of  the  boat. 

LISE.  He's  holding  it  down. 

KAREN.  Now  Hans  got  him  into  the  boat.  [Coming  down  to 
the  foreground]  God  be  thanked  and  praised! 

[She  bursts  into  violent  weeping. 

LISE.  More  boats  are  coming. 

NORA.  And  what  a  lot  of  people!    What  are  we  to  do? 
We  can't  go  down  there!     Where  are  we  now? 

LISE.  But,  Karen!    Don't! 

KAREN.  O-o-oh! 

NORA.  Let  us  get  away  from  here!    But  which  way? 

LISE.  Karen — dear  Karen!      [They  hasten  out  to  the  right. 

SIXTH    SCENE 

The  stage  is  empty  for  a  time.  Then  KAMPE  enters 
without  shoes,  his  clothes  dark  and  drooping,  his  hair 
clinging  to  his  head.  He  comes  in  from  the  right  and 
walks  quickly  across  the  stage  toward  a  door  on  the  left. 

HANS.  [Outside]  Wait,  dad! 
KAMPE.  I  am  just  going  to  change. 


190  THE  NEW  SYSTEM      ACTI.     sc.  vi 

HANS.  Oh,  wait.  [Enters  on  the  run]  What  we  were  talking 
of  before  thfs  happened — promise  me  now! 

[Embraces  his  father. 
KAMPE.  You'll  get  wet,  boy. 
HANS.  But  you  promise,  daddie! 
KAMPE.  I'll  do  my  best! 

Curtain. 


ACT   II 

The  private  office  in  the  Director-General's  home  by  the  sea. 

FIRST    SCENE 
Rus.    MRS.  Rus.    FREDERICK. 

Rus.  [Sitting  by  the  big  desk  that  stands  in  the  middle  of  the 
room;  he  is  arranging  documents  and  maps,  part  of  which  he 
puts  into  a  travelling-bag;  now  and  then  he  looks  for  something 
in  a  big  cabinet  with  shelves  which  stands  to  the  left  of  him] 
Things  don't  happen  in  life  as  they  do  in  books,  or  in  the 
imagination  of  young  people.  For  instance,  it  is  very  rare 
that  anybody  marries  for  love. 

MRS.  Hi  is.  [Employed  with  some  needlework]  But,  dear,  we 
married  for  love,  didn't  we? 

Rus.  We  two,  my  dear,  are  now  too  old  to  talk  of  love. 

MRS.  Rus.  Too  old?  Can  you  ever  become  too  old  to 
talk  of  love?  To  feel  it — that's  another  thing. 

[She  wipes  her  eyes. 

Rus.  [To  FREDERICK]  And  now,  when  the  girl  gets  out  of 
here  anyhow,  I  should  think  there  might  be  an  end  to  the 
whole  story. — The  whole  thing  was  an  irregularity. 

FREDERICK.  [Standing  in  front  of  his  father  and  partly  turned 
away  from  the  latter;  his  hands  rest  on  a  big  T-square  from  the 
office]  I  really  didn't  know  how  much  I  had  come  to  love  her. 
.  when  she  is  going,  I  feel  as  if  I  couldn't  stand  it. 

Rus.  Why,  that  kind  of  thing  has  happened  to  all  of  us. 

MRS.  Rus.  But,  dear,  you  don't  mean  to  say  that. 

Rus.  I  am  not  speaking  of  ourselves  now,  my  dear — There 
191 


192  THE  NEW  SYSTEM      ACT  n.    sc.  i 

is  a  regulating  principle  in  life  that  pulls  us  into  line  again,  if 
we  have  gone  a  little  astray.  Our  acquaintances,  the  mutual 
relations  between  us  and —  Do  you  think  I  should  be  sitting 
here  now  if  I  had  let  my  passions  run  away  with  me? 

MRS.  Rus.  But  there  has  to  be  passion,  dear — a  passion 
for  what  is  good. 

Has.  Quite  right,  my  dear — and  the  principal  good  for 
Frederick  is  his  future.  He  must  passionately — the  word  fits 
excellently — devote  himself  to  his  future.  My  social  position 
will  help  to  start  him.  But  he  must  do  the  rest  himself. 

MRS.  Rns.  Happiness,  dear,  does  not  merely  consist  in 
that  kind  of  thing. 

RIIS.  Of  course  not.  But  if  you  neglect  it,  you'll  see!  It 
means,  in  the  highest  sense,  to  miss  your  destiny. 

MRS.  Rns.  Our  destiny,  dear,  is  to  enter  into  eternal  bliss. 

Rns.  Certainly.  But  that  doesn't  make  it  wrong  to  be- 
come as  happy  as  possible  in  this  life,  my  dear. 

MRS.  Rns.  No,  but  to  be  happy  we  should  follow  the  best 
impulses  of  our  own  hearts. 

Rns.  Your  mother  is  quite  right.  [He  rises  and  walks  past 
FREDERICK]  This  is  dragging  you  down,  my  boy. 

MRS.  Rns.  But  she  is  a  very  nice  girl,  and  so  I  can't  see 
that  we,  as  parents,  should  have  any  objections.  Isn't  that 
so,  dear? 

Rns.  You  understand,  I  haven't  told  your  mother — [To  his 
wife]  But  don't  you  think,  my  dear,  that  it  would  be  wrong 
for  Frederick  to  tie  himself  at  this  stage? — He  ought  to  keep 
his  heart  open  to  every  noble  impulse. 

MRS.  Rns.  I  think  I  should  like  to  know  her. 

RIIS.  [.4*  he  passes  in  front  of  FREDERICK]  For  heaven's 
sake!  [To  his  wife]  I  don't  think  we  should  mix  too  deeply 
into  this,  mamma.  Now  she  is  leaving  the  country. 

MRS.  Rns.  Poor  girl!    Where  is  she  going? 


ACTH.    sc.i      THE  NEW  SYSTEM  193 

Rns.  To  America — to  some  relatives  of  hers. 

MRS.  Rns.  But  suppose,  now,  that  Frederick's  feelings  for 
her  are  genuine?" 

RIIS.  Let  them  be  tried,  then.  Don't  you  think  I  am  right 
in  that? 

MRS.  Rns.  Yes,  you  are,  dear.  Try  thy  heart,  says  the 
Book.  Oh,  mercy,  yes! 

FREDERICK.  I  think  I  should  like  to  go  with  you,  father, 
and  talk  it  all  over. 

Rus.  Why  don't  you? 

FREDERICK.  Well,  if  I  may — then  I'll  get  ready  also. 

Rns.  But — didn't  I  hear  that  the  Holstes  were  arranging 
some  kind  of  excursion?  The  steamer  has  been  engaged,  I 
know. 

MRS.  Rns.  The  cabinet  minister? 

Rns.  Yes. 

FREDERICK.  I  haven't  the  slightest  desire 

Rns.  To  go  with  them?     Oh,  of  course,  you  must! 

MRS.  Rns.  I  think  so,  too.  Young  people  should  be  en- 
joying themselves.  Afterward  there  is  so  much  else. 

Rns.  Speaking  of  parties — when  are  we  going  to  give  that 
dinner  for  the  engineers? 

MRS.  RIIS.  It  was  about  that  I  came  in — well,  and  about 
something  else  besides.  How  long  will  you  be  gone? 

Rns.  Ten  days,  I  should  say;  under  no  circumstances  more 
than  twelve.  What  do  you  think  of  two  weeks  from  next 
Friday?  Let  me  see — that  will  be  the  eighth. 

MRS.  Rns.  I  met  Mrs.  Holste  at  the  bazaar  yesterday. 

Rns.  The  minister's  wife? 

MRS.  Rns.  Yes — Magda.  They  are  going  to  receive  com- 
munion together,  the  whole  family — that'll  be  the  eighth. 
Now  I  thought,  couldn't  we  go  that  day  also? 


194  THE  NEW  SYSTEM      ACT  n.    sc.  i 

Rus.  That's  a  good  idea.  Let  us  do  it!  And  I  hope  the 
children  will  go  with  us. 

MBS.  Rus.  I  am  sure  they  will.  It  is  such  a  beautiful 
sight  to  see  a  whole  family  together — parents  and  grown-up 
children. 

RIIS.  Bear  that  in  mind,  Frederick:  Friday  fortnight. 
FREDERICK  makes  no  reply. 

Rus.  But  the  party? 

MRS.  Rus.  Well — a  few  days  earlier?  On  Wednesday? 
Then  we  could  have  the  Friday  free. 

Rus.  That's  splendid.  Then  all  the  arrangements  will  be 
made  while  I  am  away. 

MRS.  Rus.  That's  just  what  I  had  in  mind. 

Rus.  You  are  a  fine  housewife,  Kamma.  Why  doesn't  Lars- 
sen  come?  [Looks  at  his  watch]  Oh,  there  is  still  time. 

FREDERICK.  Can  I  go  along? 

Rus.  Frankly  speaking,  Frederick — the  Holstes  have  been 
counting  on  you.  I  just  happened  to  recall  it. 

FREDERICK.  So  you  have  been  speaking  of  me? 

Rus.  Yes.  Perhaps  somebody  else  is  also  counting  on 
you? — Oh,  there  they  are!  [Picks  up  his  field-glasses]  One  has 
to  be  a  little  far-sighted.  [Puts  them  down  beside  the  bag. 

FREDERICK.  I'll  be  at  the  station  to  see  you  off  at  least. 

Rus.  All  right. 

FREDERICK  goes  out. 

MRS.  Rus.  Dear,  it  was  really  about  Karen  I  wanted  to 
speak  to  you. 

Rus.  I  haven't  seen  her  yet  to-day.     Is  she  still  unwell? 

MRS.  Rus.  Haven't  you  noticed  that?  She  is  just  as  she 
used  to  be — pale,  without  appetite,  can't  sleep. 

Rus.  Again?    I  thought  it  had  passed. 

MRS.  Rus.  It  had  passed. 

Rus.  Well,  what's  the  matter  now? 


ACTH.    sc.  n     THE   NEW  SYSTEM  195 

MRS.  Rus.  I  don't  know.  She  won't  say  anything  about 
it.  Couldn't  you  have  a  talk  with  her? 

Rus.  Yes — bring  her  in  here. 

MBS.  Rus.  That's  just  what  I  wanted.       [Starts  to  go  out. 

Hi  is.  Tell  me,  Kamma — has  she  seen  Hans  Kampe  again? 
They  have  come  back  from  abroad,  both  he  and  the  father. 
I  see  they  are  having  an  advertisement  in  the  paper  to-day: 
"Kampe  &  Son."  Has  she  spoken  of  them? 

MRS.  Rus.  No. 

Rus.  Well,  bring  her  to  me. 
MRS.  Rus  goes  out. 

SECOND      SCENE 

A  MAN  SERVANT  comes  in  with  letters  and  two  packages 
which  he  hands  to  Rus. 

Rus.  One  of  the  packages  is  for  my  daughter? 

SERVANT.  There  was  one  for  Mr.  Frederick  also,  but  he 
received  it  himself.  • 

Rus.  You  can  leave  that  one  for  my  daughter  here.  Have 
you  taken  down  my  trunk? 

SERVANT.  Yes,  sir. 

Rus.  [Looking  at  his  watch]  I  want  the  carriage  in  half  an 
hour.     And  then  you  can  also  come  for  my  bag. 
SERVANT  goes  out. 

THIRD      SCENE 
Rus.    MRS.  Rus.    KAREN. 

Rus.  How  are  you  feeling,  my  girl? 

KAREN  leans  her  head  against  his  shoulder. 
Rus.    All   this — oh,   that  stupid  story  about  the  drown- 
ing  ?  [KAREN  nestles  closer  to  him  so  that  tier  face  is  hidden. 


196  THE   NEW  SYSTEM    ACT  n.    sc.  ra 

Rus.  But  there  isn't  a  single  soul  in  the  whole  city  that 
has  even  mentioned  it. 

KAREN.  I  think  the  whole  city  should  be  talking  of  nothing 
else. 

Rus.  Now  you  must  be  sensible!  Will  you  answer  me 
frankly? 

KAREN.  Yes. 

Rus.  Did  Hans  Kampe  say  anything  to  you  that  time  as 
he  jumped  into  the  boat? 

KAREN.  No. 

Rus.  No?    Not  a  word? 
KAREN  shakes  her  Jiead. 

Rns.  And  yet? 

KAREN.  He  only  looked  at  me.  [Hides  Tier  face  again. 

Rns.  [With  a  glance  at  his  wife]  Have  you  met  him  re- 
cently— after  his  return? 

MRS.  Rns.  I  saw  old  Mr.  Kampe  yesterday,  and  he  really 
looked  fine. 

Rns.  I  am  not  thinking  of  him.  [To  KAREN]  Have  you 
met  Hans?  [KAREN  turns  from  him]  And  he  looked  at  you 
again?  Reproachfully?  Tell  me?  [KAREN  walks  away  from 
him]  Frightful! — Listen,  my  girl.  I  have  some  idea  of  pro- 
priety myself.  It  has  been  demanded  and  developed  by  my 
position.  So  I  think  myself  capable  of  judging  in  a  matter 
like  this — perhaps  even  a  little  better  than  Messrs.  Kampe  & 
Son.  And  I  can  assure  you — on  behalf  of  our  best  society, 
I  dare  say — that  in  such  a  case  three  young  ladies  could  not 
do  anything  but  make  for  the  shore,  as  quickly  as  possible, 
in  order  to  bring  help.  And  that's  what  you  did. 

KAREN.  But  suppose  he  had  been  drowned 

Rns.  Yes,  suppose! 

MRS.  Rns.  It  took  the  doctor  nearly  half  an  hour  to  bring 
him  back  to  life. 


ACTH.    sc.m    THE   NEW  SYSTEM  197 

Rus.  Suppose  he  had  been  drowned.  Whose  fault  would 
it  have  been?  His  own!  We  cannot — least  of  all  our  young 
women — save  everybody  who  happens  to  be  dying  around 
here — whether  it  be  on  land  or  sea. 

KAREN.  I  have  thought  it  over  a  thousand  times.  Oh, 
what  a  lot  I  have  thought  of  in  this  one  month — and  dis- 
covered ! 

Hi i.-.  There  now!     "Discovered"! 

MRS.  Rus.  Perhaps  this  was  sent  you  as  a  warning  from 
above,  Karen? 

KAREN.  Oh,  I  have  been  warned  all  right.  I  know  now 
how  useless  and  helpless  I  am. 

Rus.  There!  There!  Nothing  but  sentimentality.  You 
should  take  a  horseback  ride  every  day.  Don't  you  remem- 
ber what  a  lot  of  good  it  did  you  before?  Try  it  again.  You, 
Karen,  useless  and  helpless?  You  who  are  the  cleverest  of 
your  whole  set?  Almost  all  your  teachers  have  said  so. 

KAREN.  Think  a  moment,  papa!  Did  you  ever  find  any 
prudishness  in  a  really  useful  person?  No,  it's  only  we,  the 
useless  good-for-nothings,  who  are  timid  and  prudish.  We 
who  are  always  reading  and  dreaming  and — oh,  how  insincere 
we  are! 

Rus.  Well,  well!    Insincere  also! 

MRS.  Rus.  But  there  is  something  in  that,  dear. 

Rus.  Oh,  please! 

MRS.  Rus.  Yes,  for  we  go  around  with  a  lot  of  ideals  and 
such  things — and  then  it  doesn't  mean  anything  at  all.  No, 
indeed! 

KAREN.  Mamma  is  right. 

Rus.  Of  course,  your  mother  is  right!  Because  it  is  from 
your  mother's  crazy  family  that  you  have  got  all  these  notions. 
But  my  patience  is  coming  to  an  end. 

MRS.  Rus.  You  always  run  down  my  family. 


198  THE  NEW  SYSTEM    ACT  n.    sc.  m 

Rus.  Well,  there  is  much  that's  fine  about  it  also. — But 
listen,  Karen,  I  am  trying  to  help  you. 

MRS.  Rus.  I  didn't  know  that  my  family  had  ever  tried  to 
harm  you  or  anybody  else? 

Rus.  Of  course,  not;  of  course,  it  hasn't.  Listen,  Karen! 
You  ought  to  trust  your  own  father  a  little.  You  don't  sup- 
pose that  I  want  you  to  do  anything  wrong? 

MRS.  Rus.  No,  dear,  you  have  no  right  to  say  that  my 
family  ever  wanted  anybody  to  do  wrong. 

Rus.  But  I  have  said  nothing  of  the  kind,  my  dear.  [To 
KAREN]  You  should  resist  that  weakness  in  your  nature.  It 
is  every  one's  duty  to  do  so.  And  it  is  nothing  but  a  weakness 
that  you 

MRS.  Rus.  You  don't  mean  to  say  that  she  has  got  her 
weakness  from  my  family? 

Rus.  On  the  contrary. 

MRS.  Rus.  Yes,  for  that  wouldn't  be  right.  With  all  the 
energy,  and  all  the  faith,  there  is 

Rus.  Certainly!  [To  KAREN]  You  don't  want  to  limit 
yourself  to  your  own  concerns.  And  so  you  meet  with  the 
clamour  of  all  kinds  of  things  you  think  should  be  done,  and 
out  of  it  comes  nothing  but  restlessness  and  brooding 

MRS.  Rus.  But  now,  dear,  there  are  so  many  things  we 
ought  to  do  and  don't  do.  That's  really  so. 

Rus.  Of  course! 

MRS.  Rus.  Now,  take  the  poor,  for  instance.  We  don't 
deal  with  them  as  we  should.  No,  we  don't! 

Rus.  Those  who  have  been  placed  at  the  top  of  society,  my 
dear  girl 

MRS.  Rus.  — for  when  we  are  told  we  should  love  our 
neighbour  as  ourselves — 

During  the  rest  of  this  scene  Rus  and  MRS.  Rus  go  on 
talking  at  the  same  time. 


ACTH.    sc.  iv     THE  NEW  SYSTEM  199 

Rns.  — those  that  have  been  placed  at  the  top  must  hold 
together 

MRS.  Rus.  — we  don't  do  it.  Oh,  we  are  so  very,  very 
far  from  doing  it ! 

RIIS.  — and  particularly  children  and  parents. 

MRS.  Rns.  What  we  lack  most  of  all  is  love — yes,  love! 

Rns.  Now  we  are  on  the  chapter  of  love  again!  I  must 
impress  on  you,  Karen,  and  with  the  greatest  emphasis,  that 
you  don't  let  yourself  go  like  that 

MRS.  Rns.  We  live  only  for  ourselves,  that's  what  we  do, 
and  we  spend  small  coins  and  small  attentions  to  escape  from 
what  is  really  wanted  of  us. 

Rns.  — that  you  don't  fly  around  like  a  blind  bat  in  the 
twilight. 

MRS.  Rns.  It's  so  bitter  to  know  [weeping]  that  we  are  not 
strong  enough  to  be  as  we  should. 

Rns.  Now  she's  weeping !  That's  what  comes  from  all  this 
nonsense  about  wanting  to  help  everything  and  everybody  in 
the  whole  world. 

MRS.  Rns.  [Sings]  "Love  alone  is  the  eye  of  life." 


FOURTH     SCENE 
RIIS.    MRS.  Rns.    KAREN.    FREDERICK. 

FREDERICK.  [Comes  in  with  a  book  in  his  hand]  Papa! 

RIIS.  Well,  what  is  it? 

FREDERICK.  Have  you  too  got  the  book? 

RIIS.  The  book?  Yes,  I  have  received  a  book.  And 
Karen,  too. 

FREDERICK.  Has  he  had  the  impudence  to  send  it  to  Karen 
also? 

Rns.  [Reading]  "Hans  Kampe,  C.E." 


200  THE  NEW  SYSTEM     ACT  n.    sc.  nr 

KAREN.  Hans? 

[Picks  up  the  package  addressed  to  herself  and  opens  it. 

Rus.  [Reading]  "Concerning  the  so-called  new  system 
for — "  Oh,  is  that  what  it  is? 

FREDERICK.  I  have  glanced  through  it.  You  cannot  im- 
agine what  a  shameless  piece  of  work  it  is. 

Rus.  Why,  that's  delightful !  Then  it  will  be  of  great  ser- 
vice to  us. 

FREDERICK.  No,  it  isn't  as  you  think.  The  book  contains 
a  lot  of  polite  admissions  and  has  even  an  air  of  fairness  about 
it.  That's  the  worst  of  it.  In  this  way — by  praising  you 
and  constantly  speaking  of  you  in  a  tone  of  respect — he  bribes 
the  reader  into  accepting  his  line  of  argument.  And  before 
one  quite  realises  what  has  happened,  your  system  has  been 
picked  to  pieces.  Then  he  goes  on  cold-bloodedly — oh,  so  cold- 
bloodedly and  so  logically — to  figure  out  how  much  the  coun- 
try loses  by  it  annually.  And  it  ends  up  with  some  beautiful 
reflections  about  the  moral  effect  on  our  engineers.  For  they 
are  now  compelled  to  stand  by  what  at  bottom  they  don't 
believe  in,  and  this  becomes  possible  only  by  means  of  calcu- 
lations and  data  held  to  be  far  from  legitimate. 

Rns.  Is  that  what  he  says? 

FREDERICK.  He  gives  illustrations. 

Rns.  Well — those  we'll  have  to  look  over. 

FREDERICK.  And  he  is  my  friend — the  best  one  I  ever  had. 
I  have  looked  up  to  him  as — never  in  my  life  have  I  been  so 
deceived.  Beside  this  everything  else  is  as  nothing. 

Rns.  What  was  it  I  always  said  when  you  used  to  praise 
him  so  highly:  "I  suppose  he  is  his  father's  son." — As  a  rule 
that  holds  good. 

FREDERICK.  [After  turning  and  turisting  the  book  in  his  hands] 
Everything  is  disgusting  about  it — even  the  binding! 

Rns.  The  binding? 


ACTH.    sc.  iv     THE   NEW  SYSTEM  201 

FREDERICK.  Yes,  don't  you  see  that  it  is  bound?  The 
idea  of  sending  each  of  us,  and  Karen  too,  a  bound  copy,  as 
if  this  were  something  we  wanted  to  preserve  very  carefully! 

RIIS.  Now,  when  I  come  to  think  of  it,  I  guess  you  are 
right 

FREDERICK.  And  such  a  thing  to  Karen  and  me — what 
have  we  done  to  him?  And  to  you,  papa,  who  have  stood  by 
his  drunkard  of  a  father,  although  he  was  a  constant  cause  of 
scandal. 

MRS.  RIIS.  Not  in  his  work,  Frederick.  We  must  not  put 
any  blame  on  our  neighbour  that 

FREDERICK.  Oh,  there  is  no  reason  for  you  to  defend 
him 

MRS.  RIIS.  Yes,  Frederick,  we  should  love  even  our  ene- 
mies. 

FREDERICK.  I  can't  stand  that  kind  of  thing!    But  I'll 

KAREN.  Frederick! 

RIIS.  [At  the  same  time}  Sh,  sh,  sh! — Well,  Karen!    Was  it 
not  the  "look"  that  "Hans  Kampe,  C.E.,"  gave  you  that 
made  you  so  dreadfully  "sincere"? 
KAREN  runs  out  to  the  left. 

MRS.  RIIS.  You  shouldn't  have  said  that  to  Karen.       *. 

RIIS.  Yes,  it  will  do  her  good. 

FREDERICK.  Poor  Karen!    But  I'll 

RIIS.  Look  here,  my  boy,  no  foolishness!  Now  as  never 
before  you  will  have  to  control  your  passions.  Or  you'll  never 
get  anywhere. 

MRS.  RIIS.  But  passion  for  what  is  right,  dear? 

FREDERICK.  Yes,  we  have  to  fight. 

RIIS.  Yes,  that  would  be  lovely!  [A  knock  is  heard  at  the 
door}  Come  in!  That  must  be  Larssen. — No,  we  cannot 
grant  them  the  honour  of  fighting  them. 


202  THE   NEW   SYSTEM      ACT  n.     sc.  v 

FIFTH    SCENE 
Rus.    MBS.  Rus.    FREDERICK.    LARSSEN 

Rus.  Well?  [LARSSEN  shakes  hands  with  him]  Well?  [LARS- 
SEN  greets  MRS.  Rus  in  the  same  manner]  Well?  [LARSSEN 
goes  through  the  same  motions  with  FREDERICK]  Well? 

LARSSEN.  What  is  your  pleasure,  Mr.  Riis? 

Rus.  The  book?     What  do  you  say  of  the  book? 

LARSSEN.  May  I  ask  which  book  you  are  referring  to? 

Rus.  This  one,  of  course. 

LARSSEN.  May  I  ask  you  for  a  chance  to  look  at  it? 

FREDERICK.  [Quickly]  Why,  Hans  Kampe's  book  about  my 
father's  system. 

LARSSEN.  Oh,  that  one? 

Rus.  What  do  you  think  of  it? 

LARSSEN.  Nothing  at  all. 

RIIS.  What?     Haven't  you  read  it? 

FREDERICK.  Oh,  no,  he 

LARSSEN.  [Simultaneously]  Yes,  but  only  twice. 

Rus.  And  hi  the  course  of  these  first  two  readings  you 
have  not  been  struck  by  anything  in  particular. 

LARSSEN.  [Indifferently]  No. 

Rus.  You  are  a  solid  man,  Larssen.  There  is  something 
about  your  faith  hi  a  cause  that  does  one's  very  heart  good. 

FREDERICK.  Yes,  that's  true! 

LARSSEN.  I  do  not  think  that  Mr.  "Hans  Kampe,  C.E.," 
can  teach  me  anything  about  the  new  system. 

RIIS.  No,  upon  my  soul,  I  don't  think  so  either.  He  can't 
teach  you  or  me  anything  about  it.  And  I  was  just  saying  to 
Frederick  here:  no  excitement,  no  fighting. 

LARSSEN.  For  heaven's  sake! 

RIIS.  There  you  see! — And  I  just  thought  of  something: 


ACTH.    sc.v      THE  NEW  SYSTEM  203 

[to  MRS.  Rns,  who  comes  back  after  having  had  a  look  at 
KAREN  in  an  adjoining  room]  we  meant  to  avoid  asking  old 
Kampe  to  the  dinner  we  are  giving  for  the  engineers;  but  now 
we'll  ask  both  him  and  the  son. 

MRS.  Rns.  Now  I  recognise  your  real  self,  dear.  We 
should  love  those  that  hate  us. 

LARSSEN.  Quite  right,  Mrs.  Riis — that  is,  if  we  can. 

FREDERICK.  [Bursts  into  laughter;  then  to  himself]  No,  that's 
more  than  I  can  do ! 

Rns.  Frederick! 

FREDERICK.  Yes.  [Turning  toward  his  father. 

Rns.  Don't  forget  that  I  am  going  away. 

FREDERICK.  That's  right!  [Looking  at  his  watch]  I  haven't 
time  to  get  to  the  station  now.  So  I  think  I'll  ride  down  with 
you. 

RIIS.  Here  are  a  lot  of  things  for  you,  Larssen.  And  if 
you'll  accept  a  seat  in  my  carriage,  I  can  talk  over  a  point 
or  two  with  you  on  the  way  down. 

LARSSEN.  I  shall  be  honoured,  Mr.  Riis. 

Rns.  [Hangs  the  case  with  the  field-glasses  around  his  neck 
and  picks  up  the  book,  saying:}  I  mustn't  forget  this  one. 

LARSSEN.  Something  to  read  on  the  road.     He,  he !   He,  he ! 

Rns.  [Who  has  opened  the  book]  Here  I  notice  some  calcu- 
lations which  could  only  have  been  made  by  one  on  the  inside. 
Well,  well! 

FREDERICK.  That's  the  old  man,  of  course.  Both  have  had 
a  finger  in  it. 

RIIS.  I  shall  have  to  study  this  more  closely.  [Puts  the  book 
in  his  pocket]  Could  it  be  possible  that  the  old  man  wants  to 
cover  up  something  by  this  manoeuvre — what  do  you  think? 

LARSSEN.  We  have  no  right  to  suspect  anything.  But  as 
you  have  already  spoken  of  it,  I  must  admit  that  the  reading 


THE  NEW  SYSTEM      ACT  n.    sc.  v 

of  the  book  made  me  think  that  it  might  be  wise  to  give  Mr. 
Kampe's  accounts  a  special  examination. 

MRS.  Rus.  Oh,  dear,  dear!  You  mustn't  be  so  quick  to 
think  badly  of  your  fellow-man,  even  if  he  should  have  erred. 

FREDERICK.  But  this  is  something  you  don't  understand, 
mamma ! 

RIIS.  [To  himself]  The  mere  report  of  such  a  measure — it 
would  be  worth  more  than  ten  replies  to  the  book.  Excel- 
lent!— Listen,  Larssen — let  a  couple  of  accountants  begin  an 
informal  investigation,  and  afterward  we  can  make  an  official 
demand  for  a  more  formal  procedure.  But  very  quietly! 
Out  of  consideration  for  the  man,  you  know. 

LARSSEN.  It  shall  be  done,  Mr.  Riis. 

MRS.  Rus.  But  very  quietly — that's  right! 

Rus.  Well,  good-bye  then,  my  dear.    Take  care  of  yourself! 

MRS.  Rus.  Dear,  you're  so  kind-hearted — won't  you  say  a 
good  word  to  Karen  before  you  leave?  She 

RIIS.  No,  indeed,  I  won't!  Let  her  think  over  what  it 
means  to  believe  more  in  others  than  in  her  own  father. — 
Now,  that's  a  sweet  little  wifie!  [Kissing  her]  Good-bye!  And 
don't  cry  now! 

FREDERICK  has  picked  up  his  hand-bag  and  umbrella. 
LARSSEN  is  at  the  door,  not  wanting  to  go  out  ahead  of 
the  DIRECTOR-GENERAL. 

Rus.  After  you ! 

LARSSEN.  No,  after  you,  Mr.  Riis! 

Rus.  The  idea!    In  my  own  house! 

LARSSEN.  It  would  be  too  great  an  honour!  [To  MRS.  Rus, 
whose  hand  he  shakes]  Good-bye,  Mrs.  Riis! 

MRS.  Rns.  I'll  see  you  out ! 

LARSSEN.  Permit  me  anyhow! 

MRS.  Rus.  And  remember  now,  Larssen,  very  quietly! 

Rus.  Of  course,  my  dear.     Have  a  cigar,  Larssen? 


ACTH.    sc.vi    THE   NEW   SYSTEM  205 

LAKSSEN.  Thousand  thanks! 
Rns.  And  you,  Frederick? 
FREDERICK.  I  never  refuse  your  cigars,  papa. 
Rns.  You  rascal!     You  have  been  in  the  box  before — I 
noticed  it. 

LARSSEN.  He,  he! — He,  he! 

MRS.  Rns.  [Reproachfully]  Oh,  Frederick! 

Rns.  Well — let  peace  rest  on  the  house! 

[All  go  out. 

SIXTH     SCENE 

The  scene  changes  to  the  same  open  room  at  KAMPE'S  as 
in  the  first  act. 

HANS  KAMPE  is  working.    KARL  RAVN  comes  in. 

KARL.  Oh,  there  you  are!  Will  you  permit  me  to  thank 
you? 

HANS.  So  you  have  read  the  book  ? 

KARL.  If  I  have  read  it?  I  took  it  along  to  the  Engineers' 
Club  last  night.  Some  of  the  younger  men  had  arranged  to 
meet.  I  read  the  book  aloud  to  them. 

HANS.  Well? 

KARL.  We  stayed  together  until  two  o'clock  this  morning. 
I  have  never  experienced  anything  like  it. 

HANS.  Really? 

KARL.  Do  you  know  how  it  is  when  a  large  number  of  peo- 
ple have  been  oppressed  by  the  same  vague  sensation  of  some- 
thing false,  and  then  one  man  rises  up  and  gives  open  expres- 
sion to  their  doubts?  It  puts  such  courage  into  us,  as  if  we 
might  make  the  whole  world  over. 

HANS.  You  please  me  very  much. 

KARL.  You  may  count  on  the  young  ones. 


206  THE  NEW  SYSTEM     ACT  n.     sc.  vi 

HANS.  Really? 

KARL.  For  my  own  part,  I  feel  in  duty  bound.  And  my 
wife  quite  agrees  with  me.  Well,  you  don't  know  my  wife? 

HANS.  I  haven't  the  pleasure  yet. 

KARL.  All  this  morning  we  have  talked  of  nothing  else.  I 
just  had  to  run  over  to  see  you. 

HANS.  Very  kind  of  you ! 

KARL.  Of  course,  it  is  nothing  new  to  us. 

HANS.  If  you  could  only  know  what  encouragement  you 
give  me.  You  are  the  first  one  from  whom  I  have  heard  about 
my  book — a  first  swallow  heralding  the  spring! 

KARL.  And  its  name  is  raven.  [Laughs. 

HANS.  Oh,  that  reminds  me.  You  are  not  the  first  one, 
after  all.  One  person  read  the  book  before  it  was  published: 
your  uncle,  Frederick  Ravn. 

KARL.  And  I  suppose  he  told  you  not  to  publish  it  at  all? 

HANS.  That's  exactly  what  he  did.  He  does  not  believe  in 
our  engineers;  not  even  in  the  younger  ones. 

KARL.  Of  course  not.  He  doesn't  believe  in  anybody.  But 
I  wonder  if  you  know — oh,  I  have  to  tell  you ! 

HANS.  What  is  it? 

KARL.  I  discovered  it  myself  by  a  mere  accident,  so  I  am 
not  obliged  to  keep  silent.  And  I  have  never  told  it  to  a  sin- 
gle soul  before  now — my  wife  excepted,  of  course;  for  I  tell 
her  everything 

HANS.  You  make  me  curious! 

KARL.  No  one  but  Uncle  Frederick  is  responsible  for  the  in- 
troduction of  the  system,  the  "new  system,"  both  in  this  and 
other  countries.  He  was  the  man  who  praised  it  so  highly 
in  a  number  of  foreign  periodicals. 

HANS.  Old  Ravn?  Frederick  Ravn?  The  Canal  In- 
spector? 

KARL.  Call  him  anything  you  please — he  was  the  man! 


ACTH.    sc.vi     THE  NEW  SYSTEM  207 

HANS.  All  those  brilliant  articles  we  read  as  students  in 
English  and  German  periodicals ? 

KARL.  And  of  which  we  were  so  frightfully  proud  when  we 
went  abroad ! 

HANS.  Yes!  Because  finally  something  strikingly  original 
had  come  from  our  own  little  nation. 

KARL.  Yes — and  he  did  it! 

HANS.  I  don't  think  even  my  father  knows  of  this. 

KARL.  No,  for  it  is  his  life's  great  secret.  It  was  this  enor- 
mous mistake  that  made  him  a  broken  man. 

HANS.  But  a  splendid  head  like  his?     How  could  he ? 

KARL.  We-ell !  Enthusiasts  of  that  kind  are  by  no  means 
an  unqualified  blessing  to  a  small  country,  where  no  strong 
currents  make  themselves  felt.  There  they  are  apt  to  get 
caught  by  all  sorts  of  dreams  and  abortive  projects.  For  they 
must  be  doing  something. 

HANS.  And  it  is  you  who  say  this ? 

KARL.  Oh,  I  have  a  wife,  and  she  has  saved  me.    . 

HANS.  But  she  comes  from  the  same  family? 

KARL.  Mixed  blood!  Mixed  blood!  Why,  you  don't 
know  my  mother-in-law? 

HANS.  I  haven't  the  honour. 

KARL.  She's  a  good  one.     You  must  come  and  see  us! 

HANS.  It  will  be  one  of  the  first  things  I  do. 

KARL.  That's  fine!  Come  to-morrow  night — will  you? 
And  I'll  have  some  of  the  younger  engineers  on  hand. 

HANS.  Thank  you!  [They  shake  hands. 

KARL.  Well,  I  have  to  run  along.     I  am  frightfully  busy. 

HANS.  I  shall  never  forget  this  visit  of  yours. 

KARL.  I  had  to  come.  [Going  toward  the  door]  Just  as  now  I 
shall  have  to  write  something. 

HANS.  But  the  Director-General  is  in  a  way  your  relative? 

KARL.  That's  one  more  reason!  [Coming  forward  again]  It 


208  THE  NEW  SYSTEM    ACT  n.    sc.  viz 

was  from  our  family  he  once  got  the  support  that  made  the 
whole  trouble  possible. 

HANS.  Well,  how  could  it  happen?  For  greater  con- 
trasts  ! 

KARL.  Never  mind !  We  have  got  to  make  up  for  it  now. 
And  we'll  do  it. 

HANS.  For  which  I  thank  you! 

KARL.  No,  this  won't  do!  I  am  frightfully  busy  just  now! 
[Hastens  toward  the  door,  but  stops  again]  But  I  simply  have  to 
tell  you  what  my  wife  said.  "It  is  harder  to  tell  the  truth  in 
a  small  country  than  in  a  big  one,"  she  said.  Do  you  think 
it's  true? 

HANS.  Beyond  all  doubt! 

KARL.  And  yet  you  believe  in  the  small  nations? — No,  I 
haven't  the  time  to  spare  now!  You  must  come  and  talk  it 
over  with  my  wife  and  me.  Of  course,  she  doesn't  say  much. 
Probably  because  her  mother  says  a  good  deal  too  much. 
And  I,  too!  So  I  have  no  fault  to  find!  [Bursts  into  laughter] 
Good-bye !  [Runs  out  to  the  right  and  meets  KAMPE  on  the  way] 
How  are  you? 

KAMPE.  Have  you  got  to  go? 

KARL.  I  haven't  time  now !  [Goes  out. 

SEVENTH     SCENE 
KAMPE.    HANS. 

HANS.  If  there  are  many  young  people  like  him  in  this 
country,  dad,  it  may  happen  that  we  shall  really  get  a  new 
system  of  our  own. 

KAMPE.  He's  a  fine  fellow!  But  I  came  in  because  I  saw 
Frederick  Riis  headed  for  the  house.  You'd  better  go  inside 
and  let  me  receive  him.  I  have  such  fine  practice  in  giving 
and  taking  abuse. 


ACTH.    sc.vm      THE   NEW  SYSTEM  209 

HANS.  Oh,  if  he's  looking  for  me,  I  think  he  had  better  see 
me. 

KAMPE.  You  don't  want  that  bother? 

HANS.  Frederick  has  a  warm  heart 

KAMPE.  And  a  hot  temper 

HANS.  Well,  I  might  wish  he  hadn't  come  so  soon.  But 
as  it  couldn't  be  avoided 

KAMPE.  All  right! 

EIGHTH    SCENE 

HANS.    KAMPE.    FBEDEBICK  enters  from  the  right  with- 
out greeting  anybody. 

KAMPE.  Good  morning! 

FREDERICK  does  not  reply. 

KAMPE.  An  extremely  polite  young  man!  How  are  you? 
And  your  father?  How  is  he  doing? 

FREDERICK.  [To  HANS]  I  wanted  to  speak  with  you. 

KAMPE.  An  extremely  polite  young  man! 

HANS.  Please  be  quiet,  dad! 

KAMPE.  [To  HANS]  I  think  you  should  have  let  me  tackle 
this  job. 

HANS.  But  leave  us  now! 

KAMPE.  That  last  shot  told! — Good  morning! 

[Goes  out  through  the  door  to  the  right. 

FREDERICK.  Perhaps  you  didn't  expect  me? 

HANS.  Yes,  but  I  wish  you  had  waited  a  little. 

FREDERICK.  If  I  had  not  had  to  go  with  my  father  to  the 
railway  station,  I  should  have  been  here  before  this. 

HANS.  You  ought  first  to  have  thought  over  what  I  have 
written. 

FREDERICK.  I  hope  you  don't  imagine  yourself  able  to  con- 
vince me  that  my  father  is  an  impostor? 


210  THE  NEW  SYSTEM  ACT  n.    so.  vm 

HANS.  There  is  nothing  said  to  that  effect. 

FBEDERICK.  Yes. 

HANS.  No. 

FREDERICK.  Yes,  that's  what  it  means.  But  you  have  con- 
vinced me  of  something  else — of  what  kind  of  fellow  you  are; 
and  of  the  fearful — yes,  the  fearful — mistake  I  have  made  in 
regard  to  you. 

HANS.  That's  the  way  I  expected  you  to  take  it. 

FREDERICK.  Oh,  you  did?  But  you  didn't  think  it  worth 
while  to  waste  any  explanations  on  me? 

HANS.  There  were  reasons  for  that,  too. 

FREDERICK.  I  don't  doubt  it.  You  have  proved  yourself 
better  versed  in  the  cold  art  of  calculation  than  I  could  ever 
have  expected. 

HANS.  I  knew  that  it  must  hurt  you.  And  so  I  am  willing 
to  bear  with  a  whole  lot. 

FREDERICK.  Oh,  one  who  has  no  heart  can  bear  with  any- 
thing.— But  how  could  you  do  it?  To  us,  who  have  never 
done  you  any  harm?  To  me — yes,  to  me  who  hardly  could 
stay  apart  from  you  until  you  went  abroad  three  years  ago? 
And  how  I  used  to  reve1  in  the  thought  that  you  were  at  last 
coming  home  again! 

HANS.  Thank  you  for  that,  Frederick! 

FREDERICK.  And  when  you  return,  you  hardly  look  at  us, 
don't  show  yourself  at  our  house — and  then  you  send  us  this 
book,  which  you  must  have  finished  before  you  came  home. 

HANS.  So  I  had. 

FREDERICK.  On  the  basis  of  your  father's  data  and  cal- 
culations? 

HANS.  On  the  basis  of  everything  that  was  publicly  avail- 
able. 

FREDERICK.  And  privately? 

HANS.  That,  too. 


Acrn.    sc.vm  THE  NEW  SYSTEM  211 

FREDERICK.  And  you  send  the  book  to  us  without  a  word 
of  warning — to  my  father,  my  sister,  and  myself.  It  hurts 
me  most  for  my  sister's  sake. 

HANS.  Will  you  let  me  answer? 

FREDERICK.  You  should  have  seen  Karen.  If  you  had, 
you  might  have  understood  what  you  have  done. 

HANS.  Frederick 

FREDERICK.  Could  you  for  a  moment  overlook  the  fact 
that  she  was  the  one  you  would  hit  hardest? 

HANS.  I  have  said  to  myself  that  I  couldn't  look  Karen,  or 
you,  or  your  father,  in  the  eyes  until  I  had  done  this.  I  could 
not  come  home  without  having  performed  my  unmistakable 
duty— no  matter  what  the  cost  of  it  might  be. 

FREDERICK.  Have  you  gone  clear  out  of  your  mind?  Have 
you  ever  dreamt  that  any  one  of  us  would  have  anything 
to  do  with  you  after  this? 

HANS.  I  thought  that  I  should  have  to  give  you  time,  until 
you  saw  more  clearly  what  was  in  my  mind — until  you  saw 
that  I  have  done  nothing  wrong. 

FREDERICK.  Oh,  don't  put  on  any  airs! 

HANS.  I  saw  before  me — just  as  I  have  put  it  in  my  book 
— an  expensive,  a  disastrous  mistake,  which  it  would  be  a 
crime  to  disregard  any  longer.  Your  father  has  done  other 
things  of  which  he  can  be  truly  proud. 

FREDERICK.  Yes,  I  notice  you  say  so.  And  you  think  we 
are  going  to  let  that  console  us  after  you  have  taken  away 
from  him  his  life's  greatest  honour? 

HANS.  But  if  it  never  was  an  honour,  Frederick? 

FREDERICK.  Oh,  that  may  go  down  with  others,  but  not 
with  me.  You  have  an  ambitious  mind,  and  it  has  tempted 
you  until  you  have  lost  all  other  considerations. 

HANS.  I  may  have  done  wrong 

FREDERICK.  Indeed,  you  have! 


212  THE  NEW  SYSTEM  ACT  n.    sc.  vm 

HANS.  But  when  I  came  home  and  saw  my  father's  condi- 
tion, and  when  I  remembered  that  you  hadn't  let  me  have  a 
single  word  of  warning 

FREDERICK.  Of  what  use  would  it  have  been? 

HANS.  But  if  it  had  been  your  father,  and  I 


FREDERICK.  Now  see  here:  don't  let  us  compare  your 
father  and  mine.  That's  too  ridiculous! 

HANS.  There  you  see !  And  then  you  will  understand,  per- 
haps, that  friendship  of  such  a  kind  is  something  I  don't  care 
to  have.  And  there  is  another  thing  besides. 

FREDERICK.  Oh,  there  is? 

HANS.  When  we  were  children,  your  sister  and  you  and 
I  had  a  playmate,  a  little  girl  belonging  to  what  they  call 
the  "lower  classes."  But  she  was  as  pretty  a  girl  as  I  have 
ever  seen;  and  she  had  character,  too,  for  I  have  heard  that 
she  supported  her  mother. 

FREDERICK.  Now — all  this  is  none  of  your  concern. 

HANS.  It  must  be  my  concern  when  I  try  to  decide  whether 
I  shall  have  any  further  acquaintance  with  you  or  not. 

FREDERICK.  What  is  that?     How  dare  you ? 

HANS.  If  you  had  married  her 

FREDERICK.  That's  my  own  affair. — And  it  isn't  true  that 
I  don't  want  to  marry  her.  But  others,  and  she  among 
them 

HANS.  Yes,  she's  too  proud  to  let  you  marry  her  out  of 
charity 

FREDERICK.  Drop  it!  I  know  all  about  your  moral  dis- 
courses. And  you  had  better  clean  up  in  front  of  your  own 
door  first! 

HANS.  I  am  doing  my  best. 

FREDERICK.  Oh,  you  are?  Do  you  know  anything  about 
the  condition  of  your  father's  accounts?  They  are  in  such 


ACT  n.    sc.  nil  THE  NEW  SYSTEM  213 

shape  that  it  will  probably  be  necessary  to  have  a  special 
examination  made  of  them. 

HANS.  What  are  you  saying?     My  father  suspected — 

FREDERICK.  Well,  now  you  know  how  it  feels  to  have  un- 
pleasant things  said  of  your  father. 

HANS.  But  this  is  nothing  but  false  and  unwarranted 
gossip! 

FREDERICK.  Like  yours! 

HANS.  What?  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  I  am  not  telling 
the  truth?  Prove  it! 

FREDERICK.  The  proofs  lie  in  the  public  documents  which 
you  garble. 

HANS.  Garble,  you  say? 

FREDERICK.  And  do  you  know  what  more  they  say  of  your 
book?  That  it  was  written  to  cover  up  your  father's  infamy. 
He  knew  an  examination  would  come  sooner  or  later,  and  so 
you  hurried  to  get  out  the  book  first — in  order  to  make  it  look 
as  if  the  examination  had  been  started  for  the  sake  of  revenge. 

HANS.  Oh,  I  see  now !  So  that's  the  scheme !  It's  abom- 
inable! And  it's  going  to  send  dad  back  into  worse  than 
madness ! 

FREDERICK.  Did  that  go  home?  I  should  like  to  know 
how  he  gets  his  living  now — without  a  pension?  And  I  sup- 
pose others  will  also  want  to  know. 

HANS.  This  passes  all  limits!  My  father  has  his  faults,  I 
admit,  but  he  is  a  man  of  honour. 

FREDERICK.  Ye-es! 

HANS.  My  father  has  never  seduced  a  poor  young  girl  and 
then  left  her  in  the  lurch — for  the  sake  of  his  career. 

FREDERICK.  Hans! 

HANS.  He  has  not  even  let  a  man  drown  for  respectability's 
sake. 

FREDERICK.  How  dare  you ? 


THE  NEW  SYSTEM    ACTII.    sc.  vm 

HANS.  Yes,  and  he  hasn't  even  been  capable  of  publicly 
presenting  a  misleading  statement  of  his  system — for  honour's 
sake.  There  you  have  your  family — and  its  morals. 

FREDERICK.  [Leaps  at  HANS]  You  deserved 

Silence  prevails  for  a  few  moments.    Then  he  lets  go  his 
hold. 

HANS.  [Straightening  out  his  dress]  So  you  haven't  out- 
grown those  childish  tricks! 

FREDERICK.  I  beg  you — don't  provoke  me  any  further! 

HANS.  Every  time  you  were  told  the  truth,  you  acted  like 
that.  It  has  formed  a  part  of  my  education. 

FREDERICK.  Then  I  ought  to  continue  it.  Now  you  prove 
to  me,  right  here  on  the  spot,  that  my  father  publicly  has 
given  a  misleading  statement  of  his  system,  or  you'll  pay  for 
what  you  said. 

HANS.  You  have  the  proof  of  it — in  my  book.  Do  you 
want  to  see  it?  [Picks  up  a  copy  of  the  book. 

FREDERICK.  O-oh!    You  can't  find  it! 

HANS.  I  might  be  a  little  calmer  than  I  am — but — here  it 
is!  At  the  bottom  of  page  49. 

FREDERICK,  [Takes  the  book]  I  don't  see  anything. 

HANS.  It  has  been  marked — not  by  myself,  however. 

FREDERICK.  — A  general  table  showing  differences  in 
weight  of  rails,  driving-wheel  momentum,  dead-weight,  wheel 
diameter 

HANS.  Go  on!    These  are  the  correct  figures,  mind  you. 

FREDERICK.  And  then — report  of  my  father's  address  be- 
fore the  international  railroad  congress  at  Paris.  Is  there 
anything  wrong  about  that  also?  Everybody  admired  him 
on  that  occasion,  and  it  seems  to  me  that  he  was  an  honour  to 
the  whole  country. 

HANS.  So  he  was,  and  so  I  have  said.  But  his  figures  are 
not  the  same  as  in  the  other  place.  Just  hold  them  side  by 


ACTH.    sc.  ix    THE   NEW   SYSTEM  215 

side,  and  you'll  see.     This  time  he  had  to  deal  with  people 
who  couldn't  be  fooled,  and  he  knew  it.     It  is  clever  work! 

FREDERICK.  Well — and  what  of  it? 

HANS.  What  of  it?  Two  statements  that  don't  tally,  made 
the  same  year — and  by  the  same  man? 

FREDERICK.  By  my  father?  [He  reads. 

HANS.  The  report  says:  "Corrected  by  the  speakers." 

FREDERICK.  You  lie! 

HANS.  But  read  for  yourself,  man! 

FREDERICK.  [Reads]  You  lie,  anyhow!  [Throws  the  book 
away]  It's  an  infernal  shameless  misconstruction!  My  father 
could  never  be  guilty  of  such  a  thing.  My  father  is  a  gentle- 
man. Never!  Oh,  never!  [Bursting  into  tears]  Why  did  I 
come  here?  To  one  like  you — who  has  no  heart  and  no  faith! 
There  is  nothing  so  contemptible  that  your  boundless  ambi- 
tion will  stop  at  it.  I  hate  you!  I  despise  you! 

[Runs  out  to  the  right. 

HANS.  Oh,  I  shouldn't  have  let  myself  go  that  far — but  he 
goaded  me  on. — And  there  comes — ?     Why,  Karen! 
KAREN  enters  from  the  left. 


NINTH     SCENE 
HANS.    KAREN 

KAREN.  Isn't  he  here? 

HANS.  Frederick? 

KAREN.  Isn't  he  here? 

HANS.  No — he 

KAREN.  Karl  Ravn  came  and  told  me  that  I  had  better 
hurry  up.  He  saw  Frederick  going  in  this  direction — and 
something  might  have  happened. — And  hasn't  Frederick  been 
here  at  all? 


216  THE   NEW  SYSTEM    ACT  n.     sc.  ix 

HANS.  Yes,  he  was  here. 

KAREN.  And  did  anything  happen? 

HANS.  Nothing  that  need  disturb  you. 

KAREN.  Is  it  true? 

HANS.  I  assure  you. 

KAREN.  Oh,  but  I  was  frightened! 

HANS.  Don't  you  want  to  rest  a  little? 

KAREN.  No. — I  must  ask  you  not  to  tell  anybody  that  I 
have  been  here.  [Starts  to  go. 

HANS.  Karen! 

KAREN.  I  forbid  you  to  speak  to  me  that  way. 

HANS.  I  beg  your  pardon,  Miss  Riis.  But  the  memory 
of  our  childhood  came  back  to  me  so  vividly — how  we 
boys,  your  brother  and  I,  would  fight,  and  you  would  step  in 
between  us. 

KAREN.  I  cannot  understand  how  you  dare  to  recall  our 
childhood ! 

HANS.  Yes,  speak  out,  and  then  I  can 

KAREN.  I  have  nothing  at  all  to  say  to  you.  I  only  forbid 
you  to  say  anything  further  to  me.  [Starts  to  leave  again. 

HANS.  Karen! 

KAREN.  That  is  just  what  I  forbid  you! 

HANS.  I  am  sorry,  but — I  thought  that  you  at  least  would 
understand  that  I  had  written  nothing  but  what  I  knew  to  be 
true. 

KAREN.  And  I  understand  only  that  nothing  in  the  world 
could  have  tempted  me  into  a  public  attack  on  your  father — 
although  he,  too,  has  his  faults. 

HANS.  Dear  Karen! 

KAREN.  Oh,  this  is  revolting! 

HANS.  But  I  wanted  only  to 

KAREN.  You  may  attack  my  father  as  much  as  you  please, 


ACT  ii.    sc.  ix    THE  NEW  SYSTEM  217 

if  that  is  what  you  want.  But  you  mustn't  at  the  same  time 
pretend  that  I  mean  anything  to  you. 

HANS.  And  yet 

KAREN.  [Deeply  stirred}  Only  one  question,  and  then  you 
can  settle  the  matter  for  yourself.  If  it  had  been — not  my 
father,  but  yours,  would  you  have  done  it  then — and  done  it 
publicly? 

HANS.  How  could  I?    My  own  father! 

KAREN.  There,  you  see!  For  if — well,  it  isn't  easy  to  say, 
but  it  must  be  said ! — if  a  woman  had  been  to  you  what — what 
I  forbid  you  to  speak  to  me  of 

HANS.  If  she  had  been  very  dear  to  me 

KAREN.  Then  her  father  would  also  have  been  yours. 

HANS.  But  let  me 

KAREN.  Oh,  don't  misunderstand  me!  I  don't  say  it  as  a 
reproach — far  from  it.  I  am  myself  such  a  useless,  insincere 
creature  that  it's  almost  a  crime.  But  I  used  to  look  up  to 
you,  and  that's  why  it  hurts  so  dreadfully — not  that  you  have 
attacked  my  father — but  that  not  even  you,  Hans — I  have 
lost  the  last  one  in  whom  I  could  believe!  [Runs  out. 

HANS.  But  Karen!  You  must  listen  to  me!  It  isn't  kind 
of  you!  [He  suddenly  stops  still. 

Curtain. 


ACT  III 

A  room  at  the  DIKECTOR-GENERAL'S. 

FIRST    SCENE 

The  hum  of  an  animated  social  gathering  is  heard  from 
the  outside.  Above  a  conversation  carried  on  mainly 
by  men  rises  the  melody  of  a  humorous  song  with 
its  piano  accompaniment.  The  song  is  followed  by 
laughter  and  loud  applause. 

KAREN.  [Enters,  followed  by  a  maid  with  a  tray  laden  with 
refreshments  for  the  ladies]  Put  it  over  there.  That's  right ! 
Now,  you  can  go  in  to  Mr.  Frederick  and  tell  him  that  every- 
thing is  ready  for  the  gentlemen  in  the  garden. 

HANS  enters  in  evening  dress  and  holding  his  hat  in  his 
hand. 

KAREN.  [As  she  catches  sight  of  HANS]  Pardon  me,  Mr. 
Kampe,  but  this  room  is  reserved  for  the  family  and  the  ladies 
of  the  house.  The  men's  talk  is  becoming  a  little  too  noisy 
for  them. 

HANS.  I  must  have  a  few  words  with  you. 

KAREN.  You  know  that  I  don't  want  to  listen  to  you. 

HANS.  I  give  you  my  word  that  I  have  nothing  to  say  that 
you  cannot  listen  to. 

KAREN.  I  don't  believe  you!  The  mere  fact  that  you  and 
your  father  are  here  to-day  implies  such  a — such  audacity, 
that  I  am  prepared  for  anything. 

HANS.  I  came  here  only  to  speak  to  you;  my  father,  be- 
218 


ACT  m.    BC.I     THE  NEW  SYSTEM  219 

cause  he  wanted  to  show  himself  in  response  to  the  invitation 
— may  I  not  tell  you ? 

KAREN.  You  may,  of  course.  But  I  may  not  listen  to 
you —  There,  the  gentlemen  are  going  down  into  the  garden. 

HANS.  My  appearance  frightens  you.  Well,  I  have  had 
a  bad  time  of  it  since  I  saw  you  last! 

KAREN.  You? 

HANS.  It  is  no  wonder  that  you  misunderstand  me.  I 
have  not  understood  myself —  Yes,  you  may  well  look  at  me! 
When  I  was  talking  to  you  the  last  time,  I  had  not  really 
thought  the  thing  out,  and  I  gave  misleading  answers.  There 
is  one  point  in  regard  to  which  I  want  to  set  myself  right. 
Won't  you  let  me  do  so? 

KAREN.  Oh,  well — if  it  isn't 

HANS.  Don't  fear!  I  said  that  if  it  had  been  my  own 
father  instead  of  yours — then  I  should  not  have  attacked  him 
publicly. 

KAREN.  Yes? 

HANS.  Now  I  have  gone  to  the  bottom  of  the  thing.  I 
have  also  talked  with  my  father  about  it,  and  he  agrees  with 
me.  If  his  fault  had  been  of  a  public  nature,  and  if  it  had 
had  public  consequences,  so  that,  for  instance,  it  had  caused 
the  country  a  loss  of  many  millions,  and  if  nobody  else  could 
or  would  have  stepped  forward — then  it  would  have  been  my 
duty,  my  unavoidable  duty,  to  do  so,  provided  I  possessed 
the  necessary  qualifications. 

KAREN.  What  in  the  world  are  you  saying? 

HANS.  I  am  only  saying  what  is  right:  that  it  would  have 
been  my  unavoidable  duty. 

KAREN.  It's  awful !  You  could  attack  your  own  father  in 
public? 

HANS.  Don't  misunderstand  me!  It  would  have  been  my 
duty  to  do  so.  But  I  could  not  have  done  it!  No — and  if  this 


220  THE  NEW   SYSTEM     ACT  m.    sc.  i 

book  had  not  been  written  before  I  came  home,  and  pub- 
lished before  I  met  you  again — then  it  would  neither  have 
been  written  nor  published. 

KAREN.  Do  you  see  now? 

HANS.  For  I  have  just  discovered  that  my  passions  are  as 
strong,  and  my  temptations  as  powerful,  as  those  of  my 
father.  They  were  only  waiting  to  be  stirred  up.  I  would 
have  failed  as  miserably  as  he  did,  that  time  he  tried  to  tell 
the  truth.  But  if  I  had,  it  would  have  gone  worse  with  me 
than  it  has  gone  with  him. 

KAREN.  But,  Hans! 

HANS.  Oh,  yes,  I  know  it.  My  book  represented  the  cu- 
mulative determination  of  several  years.  To  write  it  was  to 
enter  upon  my  real  life-work.  If  I  had  let  it  go,  it  would  have 
meant  that  I  let  everything  go.  For  here  lay  my  gift,  my 
knowledge,  my  responsibility —  I  could  never  have  raised 
my  head  again! 

KAREN.  I  didn't  know  that! 

HANS.  I  didn't  know  it  myself.  And  still  less  I  knew — 
We  grew  up  together 

KAREN.  No,  Hans 

HANS.  I  must  finish!  To  a  certain  extent  I  had  come  to 
take  you  for  granted — that  is,  I  had  to  a  certain  extent  for- 
gotten you.  But  ever  since — ever  since  that  moment  when 
you  ran  away  from  me — a  little  while  afterward — when  I 
realised  the  depth  of  the  love  bestowed  on  me 

KAREN.  No,  Hans! 

HANS.  To  discover  a  thing  like  that  takes  the  ground  from 
under  a  man's  feet.  I  could  have  burned  that  book  of  mine! 

KAREN.  — Could  you? 

HANS.  I  could — I  am  ashamed  to  say  it!  I  could  have 
fallen  as  miserably  as  my  father,  or  even  worse.  And  you 
wouldn't  want  that,  Karen? 


ACTIH.    sc.  i     THE  NEW  SYSTEM  221 

KAREN.  No,  no! 

HANS.  Do  you  believe  me,  Karen? 

KAREN.  Yes. 

HANS.  For  unless  you  believe  me —  You  must  believe 
that  I  have  not  betrayed  you.  For  at  that  time  I  didn't 
know  what  you  were  to  me.  You  must  believe  that  if  I  had 
known  it,  then,  for  your  sake,  I  could  have 

KAREN.  Don't  say  more,  Hans ! 

HANS.  You  must  let  me  make  this  perfectly  clear  to  you. 
I  must  lay  bare  my  whole  vileness,  the  utmost  extent  of  my 
shame!  You  could  have  sent  me  back  into  cowardly  silence; 
you  could  have  wiped  out  what  is  most  myself —  Oh,  it's 
in  my  very  blood 

KAREN.  But,  Hans! 

HANS.  Only  it  would  have  gone  with  me  ever  so  much 
worse!  For  I  should  not  have  slipped  down  into  it  unawares, 
as  my  father  did;  no,  I  should  have  plunged  into  it  with  open- 
eyed,  conscious  surrender  of  everything.  You  must  know  it. 
Even  if  you  despise  me — if  you  will  only  believe  me! 

KAREN.  I  believe  you,  I  believe  you!  That  is,  I  believe 
you  are  speaking  under  the  influence  of  a  great  fear! 

HANS.  I  hope  to  God  it  is  so! 

KAREN.  I  am  sure  of  it!  You  have  been  going  around,  in 
the  shadow  of  those  dark  memories,  just  frightening  yourself! 

HANS.  Do  you  think  so? 

KAREN.  I  am  sure,  I  am  sure!  And  through  all  of  it  I  can 
see  only  one  thing:  how  strong  you  are,  how  wholly  yourself! 
Yes,  it  is  true,  Hans,  that  I  love  you! 

[She  throws  herself  into  his  arms. 

HANS.  Karen ! 

KAREN.  I  love  you! 

HANS.  I  love  you! 


222  THE  NEW  SYSTEM    ACT  m.    sc.  n 

KAREN.  — Somebody's  coming! 

They  slip  away  from  each  other  and  are  standing  far 
apart  when  MRS.  RIIS  opens  the  door. 


SECOND     SCENE 

MRS.  Rns.  But,  Karen,  what  has  become  of  you?  Isn't 
everything  ready  yet? 

KAREN.  Yes,  mother,  now [Stops  short. 

MRS.  Rns.  But  why  don't  you  come  and  tell  me  then? — 
Have  you  been  disputing  with  each  other?  You,  too?  The 
whole  company  is  disputing!  Have  you  been  saying  hard 
things  to  each  other? — Yes,  Hans,  I  am  not  pleased  with  you! 

HANS.  Mrs.  Riis! 

KAREN.  [Throwing  her  arms  around  her  mother's  neck] 
Mamma! 

MRS.  RIIS.  What  is  it,  Karen? 

KAREN  squeezes  her  mother  time  and  again. 

MRS.  Rns.  But,  dear,  what's  the  matter  with  you?  Why, 
I  hope  you  haven't ? 

KAREN.  Yes,  mamma! 

MRS.  Rns.  Mercy,  Karen!  [Sits  down. 

KAREN.  But,  mamma!  [She  kneels  down  beside  her  motlier. 

MRS.  Rns.  You  shouldn't  have  done  it. 

HANS.  It  is  my  fault,  Mrs.  Riis. 

MRS.  Rns.  For  it's  going  to  be  so  hard  on  me! 

{Begins  to  cry. 

KAREN.  On  you,  mamma? 

HANS.  [Speaking  simultaneously  with  KAREN]  On  you, 
Mrs.  Riis? 

MRS.  Rns.  Now,  he'll  say  that  it  is  my  fault. 

HANS.  Yours? 


Aerm.    sc.  n    THE  NEW  SYSTEM  223 

MRS.  Rus.  And  my  family's.  All  my  family  is  disloyal  to 
him.  And  it's  true:  they  are  not  loyal  to  him.  But  I  can't 
help  it.  [Weeps. 

KAREN.  Dear,  darling  mamma! 

MRS.  Rus.  And  now  the  children  are  beginning  also — ! 
But  this  is  something  you  haven't  learned  from  me,  Karen ! 

KAREN.  Mamma! 

MRS.  Rus.  For  it  isn't  fair  to  him,  Karen;  no,  it  isn't! 
KAREN  buries  her  head  in  her  mother's  lap. 

MRS.  Rus.  [Patting  her  daughter's  head]  I  don't  want  to 
make  you  sorry.  But  I  have  to  say  it. 

HANS.  Mrs.  Riis! 

MRS.  RIIS.  This  is  something  you  shouldn't  have  permitted 
yourself,  Hans.  You  should  have  controlled  yourself  better. 
And  now,  children,  everything  must  be  as  if  nothing  had  hap- 
pened. For  otherwise  I  should  have  to  tell  my  husband 
about  it.  And,  you  know,  I  couldn't  lie  to  him. 

HANS.  But  why  shouldn't  you  tell  him? 

MRS.  Rus.  Yes — and  all  the  blame  would  be  put  on  me! 
And  I  wouldn't  mind  that,  if  he  could  stand  it.  But  it  would 
be  more  than  he  could  bear.  He  has  enough  as  it  is,  already. 
No,  this  won't  do.  Nothing  at  all  has  happened — do  you 
hear  what  I  say,  children?  Nothing  at  all! 

HANS.  But,  Mrs.  Riis? 

KAREN.  Mamma  is  right!  [Buries  her  head  again  as  before. 

MRS.  RIIS.  Yes,  I  am  right.  And  you,  Hans,  you  mustn't 
take  the  children  away  from  him.  That  you  mustn't  do.  It 
isn't  right,  Hans. 

A  VOICE.  [Outside]  It's  cooler  here. 

KAREN.  [Leaping  to  her  feet  and  pointing  to  the  left]  Go! 
Hurry  up! 

HANS.  But  I  must  talk  to  you! 


224  THE  NEW  SYSTEM    ACT  m.   sc.  m 

KAREN.  No,  go  now !  [HANS  goes  out,  and  KAREN  embraces 
her  mother  excitedly}  Mamma ! 

MRS.  Rus  has  got  up.    KAREN  runs  out  to  the  right. 


THIRD    SCENE 

MRS.  Rus.    MRS.  OLE  RAVN  [called  "Aunt  Ole"]. 
MRS.  PREUSS. 

AUNT  OLE.  Oh,  here  it  is!  We  come  on  our  own  invita- 
tion. The  garden  was  no  longer  endurable,  what  with  heat 
and  disputatiousness. — What's  the  matter  with  you,  my  dear? 

MRS.  Rus.  Oh 

AUNT  OLE.  You  are  the  sweetest  little  girl  in  the  world. 
But  your  two  mill-races  are  always  going.  It's  your  only 
fault. — And  you,  Kamma,  who  have  such  a  nice  husband ! 

MRS.  Rus.  Indeed,  I  have,  Aunt  Ole.  But  other  people 
are  not  always  nice  to  him.  That's  the  trouble. 

AUNT  OLE.  Yes,  Heaven  knows !  It's  a  regular  scandal.  But 
don't  cry  on  that  account.  If  there  is  anybody  who  knows 
how  to  manage,  it's  Riis.  He  is  superior  to  any  situation. 

MRS.  Rns.  Yes,  there  is  something  big  about  him. 

AUNT  OLE.  Oh!  Such  cleverness,  such  tact,  such  good- 
humour!  Did  you  notice  him  during  the  dinner? 

MRS.  Rus.  No,  I  had  so  much  to  look  after. 

AUNT  OLE.  Only  yesterday  I  was  saying  to  my  son-in-law 
and  to  Anna:  he  brings  more  honour  to  your  family  than  any- 
body else  has  ever  done.  But  you — you  peck  at  him  like 
"ravens."  You  are  what  you  are! 

MRS.  Rus.  But  there  is  no  bad  intention  in  what  they  do, 
Aunt  Ole. 

AUNT  OLE.  Well,  Heaven  only  knows  what  they  are  really 
doing. 


Acrra.   sc.ra     THE   NEW  SYSTEM  225 

MRS.  Rus.  No,  Aunt  Ole,  they  are  not  bad — not  one  of 
them.  They  mean  right. 

AUNT  OLE.  Yes — you  admire  your  family,  of  course! 
That's  more  than  I  can  do.  But  it's  your  only  fault. — Pre- 
serves! Hm!  There  is  none  who  can  beat  you  at  that. 

MBS.  Rus.  Please,  help  yourself.  I'll  get  hold  of  the 
others.  [Goes  out. 

AUNT  OLE.  Come  on  and  help  yourself.  It's  delicious! 
Oh,  you  have  started  already! 

MRS.  PREUSS.  Long  ago. 

AUNT  OLE.  No,  I  got  tired  of  all  that  talk.  My  ears  are 
still  ringing  with  it. 

MRS.  PREUSS.  I  thought  it  quite  amusing,  aunt. 

AUNT  OLE.  Amusing?  Figures  can  never  be  amusing,  my 
girl,  unless  they  relate  to  our  personal  affairs.  And  Heaven 
knows  that  often  they  are  not  amusing  even  then.  And  be- 
sides: figures  and  wheel  diameters;  figures  and  curves;  figures 
and  track-width,  friction,  deadweight — ugh!  I  am  so  full  of 
it  that  I  think  I  am  going  to  dream  of  it. 

MRS.  PREUSS.  But  you  too  were  married  to  an  engineer, 
like  all  the  rest  of  us. 

AUNT  OLE.  Oh,  those  engineers!  Especially  the  young 
ones!  They  are  the  scum  of  the  earth! 

MRS.  PREUSS.  But,  auntie!     Ha,  ha,  ha! 

AUNT  OLE.  No  reverence,  no  sense  of  authority!  Unbe- 
lievers, all  of  them!  And  that's  the  reason  why  they  are  not 
even  decent. 

MRS.  PREUSS.   Decent? 

AUNT  OLE.  Well,  I  don't  call  it  decent  to  start  fighting 
about  the  Director-General's  system  in  his  own  house. 

MRS.  PREUSS.  But  that's  just  what  he  wanted.  That's 
why  he  invited  them. 

AUNT  OLE.  The  deuce  he  did! 


226  THE  NEW  SYSTEM    ACT  m.    sc.  iv 

MRS.  PREUSS.  [Without  letting  herself  be  interrupted]  And 
at  the  table  he  made  a  speech  urging  them  to  discuss  the  mat- 
ter to  their  heart's  content. 

AUNT  OLE.  Oh,  you  talk  such  an  awful  lot,  my  girl.  And 
if  he  has  tact  enough  to  appear  unconcerned,  does  that  mean 
that  they  need  not  show  any  tact  at  all?  But  they  have  no 
upbringing.  I  repeat  it:  they  are  lacking  in  common  de- 
cency. Those  natural  studies,  I  tell  you,  produce  that  kind 
of  results. 

MRS.  PREUSS.  No,  auntie,  that's  something  I  have  never 
heard  before — ha,  ha,  ha! 

AUNT  OLE.  Well,  then  you  haven't  heard  very  much. — Oh, 
there  you  are ! 


FOURTH     SCENE 

AUNT    OLE.     MRS.   PREUSS.    MRS.   STANCE,  MRS. 
THOMAS.     MRS.  KARL  RAVN.  [Later]  MRS.  Rus. 

AUNT  OLE.  Here  are  some  wonderful  preserves.  This  time 
Kamma  has  surpassed  herself. 

MRS.  PREUSS.  Auntie  has  got  to  that  point,  you  know, 
when  she  does  nothing  but  push  her  spectacles  up  and  down. 

MRS.  STANCE.  Are  you  in  a  bad  humour,  auntie? 

AUNT  OLE.  Who?  I?  Oh,  I  am  being  driven  from  one 
end  of  the  house  to  the  other  by  all  this  horrible  squabbling. 
But  I  told  Kamma  in  advance:  you  just  leave  the  ladies  out 
when  you  give  your  dinner  to  the  engineers  this  year.  It  will 
be  nothing  but  quarrelling  about  the  new  system,  I  said,  and 
that's  not  for  ladies ! 

EVERYBODY.  Oh,  yes,  auntie! 

MRS.  KARL  RAVN.  [Simultaneously  with  the  rest]  Oh,  yes, 
mamma! 


Acrm.    sc.  iv    THE  NEW  SYSTEM  227 

AUNT  OLE.  There  now!  Not  one  of  you  deserved  to  be 
here! 

MRS.  PREUSS.  But,  auntie,  it's  a  public  question — and  we 
women  have  also  to  consider  it. 

AUNT  OLE.  Without  understanding  a  word  of  it.  Yes, 
that's  the  way  all  public  questions  are  dealt  with  nowadays. 
They  are  settled  by  those  who  cannot  understand  them. 

MRS.  KARL  RAVN.  [Helping  herself  to  the  preserves]  But 
you  are  more  excited  than  anybody  else,  mamma! 

AUNT  OLE.  Oh,  so  you  are  there,  too?  Well,  I'll  tell  you 
this  much,  though  you  are  my  daughter,  that  when  I  saw 
you  and  your  husband  marching  along  in  this  direction,  then 
I  felt  deeply  shocked.  Don't  you  call  even  that  indecent? 
He,  who  has  publicly  taken  side  against  his  own  relative! 
The  rest  have  done  nothing  but  talk,  at  least. 

MRS.  KARL  RAVN.  I  cannot  see  that  this  is  a  family  ques- 
tion at  all. 

Gradually,  as  the  ladies  have  had  their  fill  of  the  preserves, 
they  produce  some  kind  of  handiwork  and  begin  work- 
ing on  it. 

AUNT  OLE.  Then  your  husband  could  just  as  well  stand 
by  the  Director-General  instead  of  siding  with  that  drunken 
American. 

SEVERAL  OF  THE  LADIES.  American? 

AUNT  OLE.  Oh,  well,  that's  what  I  call  him.  He  has  been 
out  there,  and  he  believes  in  no  authorities.  That's  Ameri- 
can, isn't  it? 

MRS.  KARL  RAVN.  But  the  question  at  issue  is  just  whether 
they  are  authorities. 

AUNT  OLE.  Will  you  keep  still !  You  and  your  husband, 
and  your  husband  and  you ! 

MRS.  PREUSS.  You  are  always  reviling  your  son-in-law, 
auntie.  Why  did  you  accept  him  as  such,  then? 


228  THE  NEW   SYSTEM    ACT  m.    sc. 


IV 


AUNT  OLE.  I'll  tell  you,  my  girl.  When  you  have  stupid 
daughters,  you  sometimes  get  a  little  stupid  yourself.  And 
the  young  fellow  would  do  well  enough,  if  only  he  were  not 
such  a  scatter-brain.  But  how  could  he  be  otherwise?  The 
whole  family  is  the  same  way.  [MRS.  Rns  comes  into  the 
room]  Every  one  of  them — that  is,  with  the  exception  of  you, 
my  dear.  You  are  really  the  only  well-balanced  person  in  the 
whole  lot.  The  rest  are  not  to  be  endured ! 

MRS.  Rus.  {Earnestly}  But,  auntie,  you  don't  mean  to  tell 
us  that  your  husband  was  not  to  be  endured? 

AUNT  OLE.  Oh,  bless  him  for  the  honest  soul  he  was!  But 
once  he  marched  up  to  the  Prime  Minister  in  his  best  clothes 
and  told  him  that  he  wanted  to  quit:  he  couldn't  understand 
his  own  time  any  longer,  he  said. — Well,  that  wasn't  the  only 
thing  he  did  of  the  kind. 

MRS.  PREUSS.  Didn't  he  go  up  to  the  King  himself  once? 

AUNT  OLE.  Yes,  he  wanted  him  to  make  an  artisan  out  of 
one  of  the  Princes.  It  would  set  such  a  good  example,  he 
thought —  There  was  nothing  left  for  me  but  to  stick  to 
reason.  All  that  idealism  made  me  sea-sick. — And  this  much 
I  want  to  tell  you,  my  girl,  that  what  little  reason  you  have, 
you  have  got  from  me. 

MRS.  Rns.  What  I  came  for  was  to  give  you  my  husband's 
regards.  He  had  to  leave  with  the  seven  o'clock  train. 

AUNT  OLE.  Now,  there,  so  help  me  God,  if  they  haven't 
driven  him  out  of  his  own  home! 

MRS.  Rns.  No,  he  had  entirely  forgotten  a  business  en- 
gagement. 

AUNT  OLE.  Twaddle!  He  ran  away  from  all  this  engi- 
neering indecency.  Riis  is  too  refined  for  that  kind  of 
thing 

MRS.  STANCE.  Perhaps  he  only  wanted  to  give  the  discus- 
sion free  scope  by  keeping  out  of  the  way? 


ACT  m.    sc.  v     THE  NEW  SYSTEM  229 

AUNT  OLE.  That  would  be  just  like  him!  Always  consid- 
erate! And  the  others?  Exactly  the  opposite! 

MBS.  Rus.  But  Mr.  Riis  asked  them  himself,  now  when 
they  had  come  together  here,  to  talk  the  matter  over. 

AUNT  OLE.  Oh,  you  are  too  tedious  with  your  constant  de- 
fence of  everything  and  everybody!  It's  almost  impossible 
to  talk  when  you  are  present. 

MBS.  Rus.  But,  auntie ! 

AUNT  OLE.  But  then  it's  the  only  fault  you  have!  Come 
and  give  me  a  kiss!  [They  kiss  each  other}  There!  And  you 
are  sweet  to  look  at! 

[Pats  her  on  the  cheek.     MBS.  Rus  goes  out. 


FIFTH    SCENE 

The  same  as  before  with  the  exception  of  MBS.  Rus.     KABL 

RAVN. 

KABL  RAVN.  Are  you  there? 

MBS.  PBEUSS.  Did  you  think  she  had  run  away? 

MBS.  THOMAS.  Or  worse? 

KABL.  [Smiling]  No.  But  I  lost  sight  of  her  entirely. 
And  so  I  had  to  find  out  where  she  was  and  how  she  was  doing. 

MBS.  KABL.  Splendidly!  That  is,  I  should  have  enjoyed 
myself  still  more  if  they  had  stuck  more  closely  to  the  ques- 
tion in  hand,  and  not  gone  hunting  for 

AUNT  OLE.  — motives.  But  that's  just  what  we  need  to 
do  in  this  case.  For  had  that  old  drunkard  kept  his  ac- 
counts in  proper  order,  all  this  would  never  have  been  heard 
of.  That's  the  whole  thing! 

MBS.  KABL.  There  you  can  hear  how  we  ladies  discuss  the 
question. 


230  THE  NEW  SYSTEM    ACT  m.    sc.  vi 

AUNT  OLE.  Oh,  it  isn't  the  ladies  only  that  say  this,  but 
the  whole  city,  the  whole  country  perhaps. 
KARL.  Sh,  sh,  sh,  sh! 


SIXTH    SCENE 

The  same  as  before.     KAMPE. 

KAMPE.  Our  host  doesn't  happen  to  be  here? 

KARL.  No,  he  has  gone  away. 

KAMPE.  Away?    Has  he  gone  away? 

KARL.  Has  anything  happened? 

KAMPE.  Oh,  nothing  in  particular.  His  son,  Frederick, 
told  me  just  now  that — that 

SEVERAL.  What  was  it? 

KAMPE.  That  a  special  commission  was  to  be  appointed  to 
see  if  my  accounts  were — if  they  were  straight. 

MRS.  KARL.  [Rising]  Oh,  they  only  say  that  kind  of  thing 
because — well,  because  it  has  to  be  said. 

KARL.  Of  course! 

KAMPE.  He  said  that  everybody  believed  it,  and  that  every- 
body was  talking  of  it.  Is  it  true?  I  should  like  to  know  if  it's 
true. 

MRS.  KARL.  Oh,  you  shouldn't  mind  that  kind  of  gossip. 

KAMPE.  So  it  is  being  talked  of,  then.  Have  you  heard  it, 
madam? 

AUNT  OLE.  I  can  only  tell  the  truth:  I  have  heard  it. 

KAMPE.  So  you  have  also  heard  it.  The  young  man  was 
right,  then.  So  I  am  to  be  put  on  trial.  That,  too,  had  to 
come.  Of  course! 

MRS.  KARL.  But,  Mr.  Kampe 

KAMPE.  Yes,  you  mean  well — with  me  and  with  my  son. 
I  thank  you  for  it! — So  old  man  Kampe  is  to  be  put  on  trial. 


Acrrn.    sc.vi    THE  NEW  SYSTEM  231 

MRS.  KARL.  If  you  take  it  that  way,  perhaps  they  may 
accomplish  what  they  were  aiming  at. 

KAMPE.  They  will  accomplish  more  than  they  have  aimed 
at.  [Goes  out. 

MRS.  KARL.  Go  with  him,  Karl.  See  that  he  gets  away 
from  here. 

KARL.  All  right. 

MRS.  KARL.  And  if  he  won't — get  hold  of  his  son. 

KARL.  Of  course.  [Goes  out. 

MRS.  KARL.  Oh,  this  is  a  plot! 

AUNT  OLE.  A  plot?    And  who  has  started  it? 
MRS.  KARL  RAVN  sits  down  again. 

MRS.  PREUSS.  Frederick  should  not  have  told  him. 

MRS.  THOMAS.  Least  of  all  here! 

MRS.  STANCE.  Frederick  is  so  hot-tempered. 

AUNT  OLE.  Frederick  is  fond  of  his  father. 

MRS.  PREUSS.  Yes,  he  is. 

AUNT  OLE.  I  don't  wonder  that  his  blood  begins  to  boil, 
especially  after  a  good  dinner.  He  finds  his  father  surrounded 
by  people  who  envy  and  abuse  him.  And,  worse  yet,  he  finds 
his  own  relatives  among  those  people. 

MRS.  PREUSS.  Have  we  envied  the  Director-General? 

MRS.  THOMAS.  Have  we  abused  him? 

MRS.  PREUSS.  You  are  using  such  strong  terms,  auntie. 

[Laughs. 

AUNT  OLE.  Well,  I  cannot  call  it  anything  else. 

MRS.  STANCE.  Perhaps  I  might  have  a  chance  to  say  a  word 
now? 

AUNT  OLE.  Not  by  any  means,  my  girl.     For  when  you 
begin,  then  there  is  no  longer  any  peace  to  be  had. 
.    MRS.  PREUSS  and  MRS.  THOMAS.  Ha,  ha,  ha! 

MRS.  STANCE.  What  is  that  you  are  saying,  Aunt  Ole? 
Am  I  not  the  one  who  has  always  to  fight  for  a  little  peace 


THE   NEW   SYSTEM    ACT  m.    sc.  vi 

among  us?  For  the  peace  has  to  be  fought  for — yes,  it  has, 
and  particularly  when  you  are  with  us,  Aunt  Ole. 

MRS.  PREUSS  and  MRS.  THOMAS    Ha,  ha,  ha! 

AUNT  OLE.  Well,  the  idea!  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  one 
who  defends  somebody  else  isn't  peaceful? 

MRS.  STANGE.  Yes,  I  do,  for  you  are  so  hateful.  You  say 
such  things  behind  people's  backs — yes,  you  do,  Aunt  Ole! 

AUNT  OLE.  My  gracious!  And  here  I  have  been  sitting 
all  day  defending  the  Director-General  against  what  people 
are  saying  behind  his  back!  What  was  that  you  were  saying, 
Anna? 

MRS.  KARL.  [Who  has  been  sitting  perfectly  quiet  beside  her 
mother]  Nothing,  mamma. 

MRS.  STANGE.  You  always  say  such  nasty  things,  and  you 
are  so  quick  with  your  tongue. 

AUNT  OLE.  Well,  I  am  not  slow  and  solemn  as  a  spook 

MRS.  PREUSS  and  MRS.  THOMAS.  Ha,  ha,  ha! 

AUNT  OLE.  — but  it  is  just  against  all  kinds  of  "nasti- 
ness,"  as  you  call  it,  that  I  have  been  fighting  ever  since  I  came 
to  this  country. — What  was  that  you  were  saying,  Anna? 

MRS.  KARL.  I?    Not  a  word,  mamma! 

AUNT  OLE.  Oh,  I  can  see  you  all  right,  back  of  those  glasses 
of  yours.  And  it  is  no  use  to  try  to  hide  behind  your  crochet- 
ing. 

MRS.  KARL.  I  am  near-sighted,  mamma.  And  that  I  have 
inherited  from  you. 

MRS.  STANCE.  Yes,  God  knows  the  place  is  full  of  jealousy 
and  backbiting.  It  couldn't  be  much  worse — that's  the  truth 
of  it.  But  we  women  have  a  part  in  it,  too,  and  you,  Aunt 
Ole,  you  are  worse  than  anybody  else. 

MRS.  PREUSS  and  MRS.  THOMAS.  Ha,  ha,  ha! 

AUNT  OLE.  Why,  you  are  literally  quivering  with  ill-tem- 
per! But  now  I  ask  you  all  whether  I  am  not  the  one  who 


ACTHI.    sc.vi    THE   NEW   SYSTEM  233 

always  has  to  defend  the  Director-General  against  the  envy 
of  his  own  family? 

MRS.  PREUSS.  No,  you  have  no  right  to  say  that. 

MRS.  THOMAS.  No,  you  haven't,  Aunt  Ole! 

MRS.  STANCE.  But  that's  the  sort  of  thing  she  says  all  the 
time. 

AUNT  OLE.  Well,  well,  what  a  stir  in  the  hennery,  just  be- 
cause I  dare  to  mention  the  family.  The  miraculous  family, 
which  has  patent  rights  on  all  the  virtue  in  this  country! — 
What  was  that  you  were  saying,  Anna? 

MRS.  KARL.  Ha,  ha,  ha! 

MRS.  PREUSS.  Why,  Aunt  Ole,  you  know  very  well  that 
without  our  family  the  Director-General  would  never  have 
reached  his  present  high  position. 

AUNT  OLE.  Of  course  not!  You  have  picked  us  out  of  the 
gutter,  every  one  of  us!  Good  gracious,  that  I  didn't  know 
it  before  I  ever  came  here!  It  makes  me  mad  to  think  of 
it.  [MRS.  Rus  enters]  Oh,  there  you  are!  Well,  you  are  the 
only  well-behaved  person  in  the  whole  lot. 

MRS.  Rns.  What  were  you  talking  of? 

AUNT  OLE.  The  same  thing  as  usual,  of  course.  I  say  that 
the  family  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  its  behaviour  toward  your 
husband.  And  then  they  reply  that  without  the  miraculous 
qualities  of  the  Ravn  family  your  husband  wouldn't  be  any- 
thing at  all. 

MRS.  Rns.  Oh,  no,  auntie;  that's  not  what  they  meant. 

AUNT  OLE.  Yes,  it  was!  Just  ask  them!  For  on  one 
thing  they  all  agree — although  they  differ  on  everything  else 
— and  that  is  that  the  Ravn  family  alone  is  good  for  anything. 
— What  was  that  you  were  saying? 

MRS.  KARL.  I?  It  seems  to  me  you  were  saying  some- 
thing. 

AUNT  OLE.  Now,  don't  provoke  me!    I  have  looked  over 


234  THE  NEW  SYSTEM    ACT  in.    sc.  vi 

the  family  carefully  since  this  noise  against  the  Director-Gen- 
eral began.  And  I  can  tell  you  a  few  things  about  it. 

MRS.  PKEUSS  and  MRS.  THOMAS.  Oh,  please  do,  Aunt  Ole ! 

MRS.  STANGE.  You  are  perfectly  welcome. 

MRS.  Rns.  Dear,  dear,  let  us  keep  peace  in  the  family! 

MRS.  STANGE.  So  we  do — the  rest  of  us. 

AUNT  OLE.  Yes,  because  all  of  you  agree  when  it  is  a  ques- 
tion of  abusing  him. 

MRS.  KARL.  Then  there  is  one  more  thing  on  which  we  can 
agree. 

MRS.  PREUSS.  Ha,  ha,  ha! 

AUNT  OLE.  And  the  reason  is  that  all  of  you  are  a  little 
cracked. 

MRS.  KARL.  Ha,  ha,  ha! 

MRS.  STANCE  and  MRS.  THOMAS.  [At  the  same  time]  That's 
right,  auntie! 

MRS.  PREUSS.  Well,  what  else?  It  isn't  the  first  time 
you  say  that! 

AUNT  OLE.  Oh,  isn't  it? 

MRS.  Rns.  But,  auntie,  now  I  think  you  are  going  too  far! 

AUNT  OLE.  One  goes  mad  with  dreaming,  another  with 
doubting  and  brooding,  a  third  with  everlasting  business 
speculations —  Yes,  you  know  whom  I  have  in  mind. 

MRS.  STANCE.  Now,  Aunt  Ole,  you  had  better  stop! 

AUNT  OLE.  You  are  not  going  to  fight  me,  are  you?  It 
would  be  the  only  thing  wanting! — A  fourth  one  goes  mad 
with  inventions  and  all  sorts  of  similar  tomfoolery.  And  the 
fifth— 

MRS.  KARL.  Ha,  ha,  ha! 

MRS.  PREUSS  and  MRS.  THOMAS.  [Together]  No,  please,  let 
us  have  the  fifth  one  also. 

MRS.  STANCE.  [At  the  same  time  as  the  other  two]  I  know 
whom  you  mean,  and  it  isn't  nice  of  you! 


ACT  in.    sc.vii    THE  NEW  SYSTEM  -:;., 

AUNT  OLE.  The  fifth  one  does  missionary  work  for  peace 
and  love. 

MRS.  Riis.  Yes,  love,  Aunt  Ole — you  should  abide  in  love. 

AUNT  OLE.  Oh,  don't  bother  me  with  your  love  nonsense! 
You  are  just  the  fifth  kind.  And  the  most  tedious  of  the 
whole  lot  at  that. 

MRS.  KARL,  MRS.  PREUSS,  MRS.  THOMAS.    Ha,  ha,  ha! 

MRS.  STANCE.  [At  the  same  time]  But  a  little  while  ago  you 
said 

AUNT  OLE.  You,  too — imp  that  you  are! 

ALL.  [except  MRS.  Hi  is]  Ha,  ha,  ha! 

Loud  talking  is  heard  from  the  outside. 

AUNT  OLE.  Mercy  me,  here  they  come — even  here!  Where 
in  the  world  can  we  turn  to  get  a  moment's  peace?  [Everybody 
rises]  How  about  the  bedrooms — I  suppose  they  keep  out  of 
them? 

ALL.  [except  MRS.  RIIS]  Ha,  ha,  ha!  [AUNT  OLE  laughs  also. 

MRS.  KARL.  [As  they  are  going  out]  Yes,  that's  the  way  v>e 
discuss  this  railroad  question! 

ALL.  [including  AUNT  OLE]  Ha,  ha,  ha,  ha! 

[They  go  out  to  the  left. 

SEVENTH    SCENE 

KAHRS  and  PREUSS  appear  on  one  side  of  the  CHAIR- 
MAN OF  THE  RAILROAD  COMMITTEE;  on  the  other 
side  of  him  are  LANGE  and  KRAFT. 

KAHRS.  But  it's  the  proofs  that  have  to  be  weighed. 
LANGE.  But  when  proo'f  is  put  against  proof? 
PREUSS.  Figures!     I  want  figures!     For  figures  cannot  lie. 
KRAFT.  But  when  there  are  figures  on  both  sides? 


236  THE   NEW  SYSTEM    ACT  in.     sc.  vm 

KAHRS.  Why,  it  is  just  your  proofs  and  your  figures  that 
Hans  Kampe  has  turned  upside  down. 

LANGE.  Not  one  of  them!    His  premises  are  wrong. 

PREUSS.  His  premises  are  in  the  official  documents. 

LANGE.  But  it's  no  good  as  evidence.  The  peculiarity  of 
the  country 

KRAFT.  And  of  the  traffic,  too. 

PREUSS.  Well,  let's  take  the  Southern  Railroad.  There 
Kampe  has  proved 

LANGE.  But  that's  just  where  Larssen  has  proved 

CHAIRMAN.  Gentlemen! 

KAHRS.  A  calculation  made  by  old  Kampe  is  not  the  same 
thing  as  one  made  by  a  man  in  Larssen 's  position 

PREUSS  and  KRAFT.  What  is  that  you  say? 

LANGE.  I  believe  in  the  accuracy  of  Larssen  as  I  believe 
in 

PREUSS.  In  God,  I  suppose? 

LANGE.  — in  a  mathematical  demonstration.  That's  what 
I  do! 

EIGHTH    SCENE 

Those  already  on  the  stage  are  joined  by  LARSSEN,  CANAL 
INSPECTOR  RAVN,  and  KARL  RAVN.  Two  conversa- 
tions are  carried  on  simultaneously:  one  by  the  previous 
group,  gathered  on  one  side  in  the  foreground  and 
speaking  in  lowered  voices;  the  other  by  the  new- 
comers, who  pass  slowly  down  the  stage  toward  the  foot- 
lights. 

[First  group.] 

KAHRS.  No,  you  had  better  place  your  trust  in  the  reports 
of  the  operating  engineers. 
KRAFT.  What  of  them? 


Acrra.    sc.  vra    THE  NEW  SYSTEM  237 

PREUSS.  Those  reports  have  now  been  analysed  in  a  way 
that  leaves  no  loophole. 

KRAFT.  Yes,  and  the  man  who  has  done  it  is  that  shrewd 
fellow  over  there,  the  brother-in-law  of  the  Director-General. 

LANGE.  That's  another  piece  of  falsehood,  I  tell  you! 

PREUSS.  And  I  tell  you  that  you  no  longer  know  what  you 
are  saying! 

CHAIRMAN  OF  THE  RAILROAD  COMMITTEE.  Gentlemen! 

LANGE.  Nobody  doubts  that  we  are  now  confronted  by  a 
plot  which  is  directed  by  a  drunkard  and  secretly  nursed  by 
family  dissensions. 

[Second  group,  speaking  more  loudly.] 

RAVN.  Why  don't  you  come  to  me  some  day  and  have  a 
look  at  it?  I  have  made  a  compilation  of  the  reports  by  the 
operating  engineers. 

LARSSEN.  So  have  we. 

RAVN.  But  not  in  the  same  way.    Come  and  look  at  it. 

LARSSEN.  I  will,  since  you  permit  me. 

RAVN.  I  know  you  care  for  nothing  but  the  truth  of  the 
matter. 

LARSSEN.  I  hope  so,  Mr.  Ravn. 

KARL  RAVN  has  gradually  approached  the  whispering 
group. 

KARL.  [Jocularly]  Family  dissensions?  Above  all,  speak  up! 

LANGE.  [Aloud]  Well,  I  am  not  afraid  of  doing  so.  Every 
matter  has  to  be  searched  down  to  its  moral  ramifications. 
Our  small  circumstances  permit  this — and  it  is  a  great  ad- 
vantage. 

KARL.  It's  thoroughly  national,  at  least. 

PREUSS.  Apparently  it  is  part  of  our  patriotic  feelings. 

LANGE.  Don't  mention  such  a  thing!    If  there  were  any 


238  THE   NEW  SYSTEM      ACT  m.     sc.vra 

patriotic  feelings  among  us,  we  would  at  least  stick  up  for 
what  is  known  to  belong  to  ourselves. 

RAVN.  That  is  to  say,  for  our  mistakes? 

LANGE.  And  what  are  you  sticking  up  for?  The  delirious 
ravings  of  a  drunkard! 

CHAIRMAN  OF  RAILROAD  COMMITTEE.  Pardon  me,  but  my 
work  in  the  Diet  has  accustomed  me  to  insist  on  a  certain 
parliamentary  moderation. 

LANGE.  But  even  in  the  Diet  you  can  tell  the  truth. 

CHAIRMAN.  [Smilingly]  No,  that's  exactly  what  you  can- 
not do  in  the  Diet. 

SEVERAL.  Ha,  ha,  ha! 

KRAFT.  Speaking  of  the  Diet — how  do  they  feel  about  it 
there?  What  do  you  think  they  will  decide  on? 

CHAIRMAN.  Well,  it  isn't  easy  for  the  Diet  to  decide  as  long 
as  the  experts  remain  divided  among  themselves. 

PREUSS.  So  you  regard  those  who  are  directly  connected 
with  the  railroads  as  experts? 

KAHRS.  That's  an  abominable  piece  of  rudeness! 

KRAFT.  Yes,  it's  "abominable,"  indeed! — But  what  do  you 
think  will  be  the  decision  of  the  Diet? 

RAVN.  Why,  that's  easy  to  foretell.  The  Diet  has  two 
roads  to  deal  with.  They  will  vote  on  one  of  them  according 
to  the  new  system,  and  on  the  other  according  to  the  old. 

CHAIRMAN.  Then  the  principle  of  the  matter  would  still 
remain  undetermined. 

RAVN.  Exactly!  What  the  devil  is  ever  settled  on  princi- 
ple among  us? 

KARL.  O-oh — now  you're  "seeing  black"  again,  Father 
Ravn! 

LARSSEN.  [Who  has  approached  the  CHAIRMAN]  But,  if  you 
permit  me  to  say  so :  two  diametrically  opposed  things  cannot 
be  true  at  one  and  the  same  time? 


xcrra.    BC.DC       THE  NEW  SYSTEM  2:50 

NINTH     SCENE 

The  same  as  before.    KAMPE. 

KAMPE.  Here's  a  merry  old  bird  for  you! 

KARL.  Why,  is  he  still  here? 

PREUBS.  And  drunk? — They  said  he  had  straightened  up? 

KAHRS.  He  didn't  touch  his  glass  during  the  dinner. 

KAMPE.  [Singing]  Gaudeamus  igitur,  juvenes  dum  su- 
mus — 

LANGE.  [Speaking  simultaneously  with  KAMPE  to  the  CHAIR- 
MAN] Permit  me  to  introduce  the  man  who  is  at  the  bottom 
of  this  whole  thing. 

CHAIRMAN.  Has  he  fallen  as  deep  as  that? 

LANGE.  Yes,  he  has  made  good  headway  in  a  few  years. 

KAMPE.  Gaudeamus  igitur,  juvenes  dum  sumus 

RAVN.  What  does  this  mean? 

KAMPE.  It's  me,  old  man!    Magnus  Holm  Kampe. 

RAVN  is  seen  to  whisper  to  KARL,  who  leaves  the  room 
hurriedly. 

LARSSEN.  [Who  has  again  approached  the  CHAIRMAN]  If 
you'll  excuse  me,  two  diametrically  opposed  things  cannot 
be  true  at  one  and  the  same  time. 

KAMPE.  Well,  if  it  isn't — (mimicking  LARSSEN]  His  Excel- 
lency the  Principle  is  here  also — ye-es! 

LANGE.  [To  KRAFT]  Oh,  please,  get  the  whole  railroad 
committee  in  here,  won't  you! 

KRAFT.  In  a  moment.    That's  a  good  idea. 

LANGE.  And  ask  Frederick  Riis  to  give  you  a  hand. 

KRAFT.  I  will ! 

Goes  out;  in  the  meantime  FREDERICK  RAVN  has  tried  to 
pull  KAMPE  aside  and  to  whisper  to  him. 

KAMPE.  Nonsense!  [RAVN  whispers  to  him  again;  KAMPE 


240  THE  NEW  SYSTEM       ACT  in.    sc.  ix 

bursts  into  laughter]  All  of  you  are  nothing  but  a  lot  of  school- 
boys compared  with  my  son.  [RAVN  is  whispering  to  him 
again]  Harm?  No  harm  can  come  to  him.  He'll  be  direc- 
tor-general and  minister,  too,  no  matter  what  you  cook  up. 
Ha,  ha!  Gaudeamus  igitur — 

LANGE.  [To  the  CHAIRMAN]  Do  you  hear  what  they  ars 
aiming  at? 

CHAIRMAN.  I  do. 

RAVN.  Oh,  he's  spoiling  everything!  What  has  become  of 
Hans? 

PREUSS.  I  will — 

RAVN.  I  have  sent  Karl  after  him.  But  you  might  try 
also. 

PREUSS.  [Hurrying  out,  meets  in  the  doorway  some  men  who 
are  trying  to  get  in]  Nobody  can  get  in  here !  There  is  nothing 
to  see! 

FREDERICK  RIIS.  [Appearing  from  the  outside]  What  do 
you  mean?  Do  you  want  to  stop  us  from  going  in? 

PREUSS  hurries  off.     The  others  come  into  the  room. 

KAMPE.  [Who  in  the  meantime  has  been  surveying  the  com- 
pany with  a  smiling  face]  All  of  you  look  so  sour.  Do  as  I  do: 
put  on  a  little  night-cap,  and  then  the  world  becomes  liv- 
able— ye-es! 

FREDERICK.  Good! 

KAMPE.  Isn't  it  true,  Lange?  Oh,  you're  a  stiff  one,  you 
are.  You're  the  personified  wheel-and-axle  friction,  that's 
what  you  are.  You're  equal  to  0  multiplied  by  /-one  plus 
/-two-r  divided  by  R. 

ALL.  Bravo!  [They  applaud. 

KAMPE.  Why  should  we  engineers  get  angry?  What's  the 
use  of  having  a  state,  if  it  doesn't  pay  for  our  stupidities? 
[He  laughs;  some  laugh  with  him]  Isn't  that  so,  you — Mr. 
Principle?  [He  pokes  at  LARSSEN]  Brrrr! 


Acrra.    SC.DC       THE  NEW  SYSTEM  241 

FREDERICK.  But  the  Diet,  Father  Kampe,  hasn't  that  to 
control ? 

KAMPE.  The  Diet?  What  does  the  cat  know  about  mus- 
tard? Are  those  who  sit  in  it  engineers,  do  you  think? 
Chatterboxes,  that's  what  they  are.  [Laugh*. 

SEVERAL  ENGINEERS.  Bravo,  bravo! 

RAVN.  Shame  on  you,  Kampe! 

KAMPE.  Shame?     Did  anybody  say  shame? 

RAVN.  Come  along  with  me  now! 

KAMPE.  If  this  were  a  big  country — then  I  would  be  min- 
ister of  public  works — and  you?  My  secretary!  [Laugh*. 

ONE  OF  THE  ENGINEERS.  Listen  to  him! 

SEVERAL.  Bravo,  bravo! 

KAMPE.  And  do  you  know  what  you  would  be  then? 

SEVERAL.  No. 

KAMPE.  Nice  little  boys — nothing  at  all. 

SEVERAL.  Bravo,  Kampe! 

KAREN.  [II ax  entered  and  pushes  through  to  the  front}  What 
is  it?  Oh,  can't  you  get  him  away? 

RAVN.  Impossible! 

KAMPE.  [Who  has  been  looking  for  something  in  his  note- 
book] Now,  you'll  hear  something — or  perhaps  you  have  heard 
it  before? 

SEVERAL.  No! 

LANGE.  [To  the  CHAIRMAN]  Twenty  times  at  least.  He  al- 
ways reads  it  when  he  gets  drunk. 

KAMPE.  [Reading] 

"Wide  horizons,  small  conditions: 
There  your  gifts  will  lift  you  upward. 
Small  conditions,  close  horizons: 
There  your  faults  will  drag  you  downward." 

[Speaking]  I  won't  have  anylxxly  laugh  at  that. 

KAREN.  But  can't  you  speak  to  him? 


242  THE  NEW  SYSTEM       ACT  m.    sc.  ix 

RAVN.  Oh,  I  have  tried  it! 

KAREN.  Frederick! 

FREDERICK  doesn't  hear. 

KAMPE.  [Reading] 

"Greatest  ship  in  windless  waters 
Rots  until  it  falls  to  pieces." 

SEVERAL.  [Laughing]  Bravo! 

RAVN.  There  is  Hans  now! 

HANS,  KARL  RAVN,  and  PREUSS  come  into  the  room. 

KAREN.  [Meeting  HANS]  Hans! 

KAMPE.  Hans? — Oh,  come  here,  my  boy!     Look  at  him! 
Get  out  of  the  way  for  him. 

HANS.  But,  dad! 

KAMPE.  Ye-es ? 

HANS.  But,  dad! 

KAMPE.  Yes,  what's  the  matter!    Won't  you  look  happy, 
please?    I  am  so  happy  when  I  look  at  you! 

HANS.  Don't  you  remember  what  you  have  promised  me? 

KAMPE.  I?     Promised  you? 

HANS.  Don't  you  remember? 

KAMPE.  [A  cry  escapes  him.     Then  he  whispers]  That's  so! 
[He  has  to  be  supported  by  several  of  those  around  him. 

RAVN.  Give  him  some  water! 

KAREN.  [Who  has  hurried  over  to  the  ladies'  table,  where  she 
finds  a  water-bottle  and  glasses]  Here  it  is. 

HANS.  Thank  you,  Karen! 

KAREN.  Drink  a  little. 

KAMPE.  No — I  don't  need  it — it  was  only 

RAVN.  Now  he's  sober  again. 

HANS.  What  was  it? 

KAMPE.  It  was  only  my  memory  that  came  back. 

HANS.  But  what  has  happened?     When  I  saw  you  last, 
you  seemed  so  happy  and  satisfied. 


Acrra.    SC.DC       THE  NEW  SYSTEM  243 

SEVERAL.  Yes. 

KAMPK.  Well,  you  see,  it  was  Frederick  Riis 

KAREN.  You? 

KAMPE.  He  told  me — that  my  accounts  were  to  be — that 
there  was  to  be  a  special  commission 

KAREN.  But,  Frederick! 

KAMPE.  A  special  commission  to  examine  my  accounts. 
Ordinary  examination  was  not  enough. 

KAREV.  [Whispering]  Oh,  Frederick! 

KAMPE.  Well — and  that  was  too  much  for  me.  And  so  I 
forgot  you,  Hans — and  what  I  had  promised  you.  A  wretch 
like  me  shouldn't  give  any  promises. 

HANS.  There  is  such  a  crowd  here.  Come,  now,  and 
let  us 

KAMPE.  No,  let  them  hear!  They  have  witnessed  my 
shame.  I  have  been  a  traitor  to  you.  Let  them  hear  me  say  so. 

HANS.  But,  dad! 

KAMPE.  To-morrow,  it  will  be  all  over  the  city.  I,  your 
father,  have  spoiled  everything  for  you. 

HANS.  Dad! 

KAMPE.  I  can't  be  helped.  You  go  your  way.  Don't 
stay  here  any  longer. 

HANS.  [Close  to  him]  Yes,  I  will. 

KAMPE.  Sh — don't  say  that! 

HANS.  Yes,  I'll  never  leave  you! 

KAMPE.  You  won't,  Hans?    You  won't? 

HANS.  Not  for  anything  in  the  world! 

CHAIRMAN.  There's  character  in  those  two  fellows! 

KAMPE.  Hans,  do  you  dare  to  trust  me  once  more? 

HANS.  Now  more  than  ever. 

KAMPE.  Then  I'll  promise  you — No,  I'll  promise  nothing. 
But  I'll  beg  of  you:  please,  stay  by  me! — And  what  had  be- 
come of  you  anyhow? 


244  THE  NEW  SYSTEM       Aerm.    sc.  ix 

HANS.  I  had  my  own  sorrow. 

KAMPE.  You? — Who  dares  to  cause  you  any  sorrow? 

HANS.  Come  now  and  let  us  go  home. 

KAMPE.  All  right.     Can  you  forgive  me? 

HANS.  That  I  forgot  you  for  a  moment! — Come,  now.! 

[They  go  out  arm  in  arm. 

Curtain. 


ACT    IV 

A  living-room  at  the  Director-GeneraTa. 

FIRST    SCENE 

RIIS  is  dressed  in  black  and  wears  a  number  of  decora- 
tions.    MRS.  RIIS  wars  a  rich  dress,  but  all  black. 

MRS.  RIIS.  [Reading]  "For  it  is  upon  your  own  hearts 
that  you  must  keep  watch.  This  is  neglected  by  the  children 
of  the  world.  They  have  so  many  things  that  take  them  out 
of  themselves.  And  if  a  reminder  should  reach  them,  they 
seek  diversion,  or,  if  forced  into  a  reckoning,  they  try  to  put 
the  fault  on  some  one  else.  At  the  best,  they  strive  to  set 
themselves  right,  although  we  can  accomplish  nothing  by  our 
own  powers." 

RIIS.  Quite  right!  By  our  own  powers  we  can  accomplish 
nothing,  indeed!  See  here,  Kanima,  it's  late  already,  and 
the  services  will  last  for  some  time — hadn't  we  better  have 
a  bite  before  we  start? 

MRS.  RIIS.  But  you  know,  dear,  that  we  never  eat  before 
we  receive  communion.  It  seems  as  if  we  were  a  little  more 
ready  for  it,  then. 

RIIS.  Well,  as  you  say — Yes,  yes!  How  would  it  be  if  we 
could  not  find  religious  consolation  against  the  inconstancy 
and  treachery  of  the  world! — I  suppose  the  debate  in  the  Diet 
is  at  its  hottest  just  now. 

MRS.  RIIS.  Don't  let  us  be  thinking  of  the  Diet,  dear. 
245 


246  THE  NEW  SYSTEM     ACT  TV.    sc.  i 

These  decisions  that  are  nothing  but  human  devices,  what  do 
they  amount  to? 

Rus.  You  are  right,  dear  girl,  you  are  right!  That  was  an 
extremely  comforting  book,  out  of  which  you  were  reading  to 
me.  Nothing  that  we  human  creatures  devise  is  good  for 
anything.  Oh,  if  it  were  possible  to  rid  oneself  of  it  alto- 
gether, to  get  away  from  it  entirely! 

MBS.  Rns.  Are  you  now  thinking  of  the  life  that  comes 
after  death,  dear? 

Rns.  Well,  not  death  exactly — but  peace,  rest. 

MRS.  Rns.  Yes,  you  certainly  need  a  little  rest,  you  who 
have  worked  so  hard. — But  why,  then,  don't  you  resign? 

Rns.  What  makes  you  think  of  it?  Who  has  been  talking 
of  it? 

MBS.  Rns.  Nobody,  as  far  as  I  can  remember. 

RIIS.  Yes,  it  must  have  been  somebody.  Try  to  remember. 
— Frederick? 

MBS.  Rns.  Oh,  Frederick  is  saying  so  many  things  these 
days.  He  isn't  himself  any  longer. 

RIIS.  He  is  no  longer  wholly  loyal  to  his  father.  That's 
what's  the  matter  with  Frederick,  my  dear. 

MRS.  Rns.  Don't  say  so,  dear!  Frederick  is  having  a 
struggle  of  his  own,  now. 

Rns.  Well,  don't  let  us  talk  of  it  just  now.  Let  us  fix  our 
minds  on  something  that  brings  peace  with  it. 

MBS.  Rns.  Do  you  want  me  to  read  a  little  more? 

Rns.  Oh,  no!     Although  it's  an  excellent  book. 

MBS.  Rns.  Perhaps  you  want  to  read  it  yourself? 

Rns.  Oh,  no!     Hadn't  we  better  start  soon? 

[Looks  at  his  watch. 

MBS.  RIIS.  Why,  it  won't  begin  for  an  hour  yet. 

Rns.  But  isn't  it  customary  to  get  there  a  little  early? 

MBS.  Rns.  Yes. 


ACT  iv.    sc.  i     THE  NEW  SYSTEM  247 

Run.  It  is  as  if  one  could  manage  one's  thoughts  better  in 
the  church — I  can't  keep  it  out  of  my  mind:  after  all,  it's 
my  life-work  they  are  discussing  in  the  Diet  now. 

MRS.  RIIS.  I  think  what  shows  your  greatness,  dear,  is 
just  that  while  they  are  persecuting  and  tormenting  you,  you 
pursue  your  way  calmly  toward  the  only  thing  that  can  bring 
you  peace. 

RIIS.  But  it's  hard  to  bear  the  thought  that  our  children 
will  not  be  with  us.  Holste  is  a  fortunate  man,  he  is.  He  will 
be  surrounded  by  all  that  belong  to  him.  It  is  as  if  I  had 
built  up  nothing,  brought  nothing  together. 

MRS.  RIIS.  How  can  you  talk  like  that?  As  for  the 
Holstcs,  it  is  her  work  more  than  his.  Magda  is  so  much 
stronger  and  more  capable  than  I  am. 

RIIS.  Don't  let  it  worry  you,  my  dear.  I  am  sure  you  have 
done  all  you  could.  But  I  really  think  the  children  ought  to 
have  gone  along  for  your  sake. 

MRS.  RIIS.  Oh,  they  are  not  accustomed  to  pay  much  at- 
tention to  me. 

RIIS.  Don't  say  that!    Don't  say  that! 

MRS.  Rns.  I  can't  say  how  it  hurts  me  that  I  cannot 
make  them  stay  by  you  just  now. 

RIIS.  You're  loyal,  Kamma!  But  don't  cry  now!  It  will 
show! 

MRS.  RIIS.  I  have  no  such  gifts  as  you  and  the  children. 

Rns.  But  you  have  a  heart — that's  what  you  have!  Much 
will  be  different  hereafter.  I  have  thought  it  all  over.  And 
I  have  not  always  been  what  I  ought  to  have  been. 

[Give*  her  hi*  hand. 

MRS.  RIIS.  Dearest  dear! 

RIIS.  But  don't  cry  now!  People  will  misunderstand. — 
Couldn't  we  talk  of  something  else  now? 

MRS.  RIIS.  Yes,  but  there  are  the  children  now. 


248  THE   NEW   SYSTEM     ACT  iv.    sc.  n 

SECOND    SCENE 

Rus.    MRS.  Rus.    FREDERICK.    KAREN. 

Rns.  That's  right,  children!  You  are  coming  with  us, 
after  all? 

MRS.  Rus.  I  knew  they  would!  But  you  don't  look  well, 
Karen! 

Rus.  I  suppose  you  have  been  unable  to  sleep  again? 
But  how  is  it  going  to  end,  child,  if  you  don't  get  any  sleep? 
Tell  me! 

MRS.  Rus.  Come  with  us  to-day.  That  will  bring  you  the 
peace  you  are  looking  for. 

KAREN.  I  should  like  to.     But  I  cannot.     Not  just  now. 

Rns.  What  is  the  matter  with  you?  Have  you  two  heard 
anything?  They  can't  have  come  to  a  decision  in  the  Diet 
yet? 

FREDERICK.  In  the  Diet?    I  haven't  been  near  it. 

Rns.  Oh,  you  haven't? 

MRS.  Rns.  It  is  much  better  that  Frederick  should  stay 
with  us.  You  must  stand  by  your  father  in  days  like  these, 
Frederick. 

Rns.  Oh,  there's  no  reason  why  he  should  consider  me  at 
all!  If  his  own  heart  doesn't  make  him  find  out  what  is 
happening  to  his  father — 

MRS.  Rns.  Say  rather:  if  it  doesn't  make  him  go  to  church 
with  his  father. 

Rns.  You  are  right — rather  that! 

MRS.  Rns.  One  has  to  make  some  sacrifice  for  one's  own 
father. 

RHS.  Not  at  all!  I  have  already  declared  that  nobody 
need  do  anything  for  me.  He  has  his  full  freedom. 


ACT  iv.    sc.  ii    THE  NEW  SYSTBIf  249 


RIIS.  Thai's  splendid  of  you,  dear  —  but  children  may 
have  a  little  too  much  freedom. 

RIIS.  Love  must  be  free,  unconditional. 

KAREN.  That's  just  what  Frederick  wanted  to  talk  with 
you  about,  papa. 

RIIS.  [Surprised]  About  what? 

KAREN.  About  his  love  —  for  Anna. 

RIIS.  I  think  both  of  you  -  ! 

MRS.  RIIS.  But  Karen,  dear  —  don't! 

RIIS.  And  that's  what  you  are  coming  with  now! 

MRS.  RIIS.  Really,  you  shouldn't! 

FREDERICK.  We  thought,  Karen  and  I  - 

MRS.  RIIS.  Hush! 

FREDERICK.  We  thought  that  to-day,  when  you  have  both 
prepared  yourself  and  are  going  to  - 

RIIS.  Then  we  are  to  be  upset,  of  course! 

MRS.  RIIS.  Now  you  are  really  tormenting  your  father! 

RIIS.  Don't  you  think  I  have  enough  as  it  is?  Do  you 
think  it  is  so  very  easy,  my  dear  Frederick,  to  keep  my 
thoughts  on  higher  matters  just  now  —  in  the  midst  of  a  perse- 
cution which  at  this  time,  perhaps  at  this  very  moment  - 

MRS.  RIIS.  Haven't  you  common  sense,  Frederick?  You 
must  show  some  consideration! 

RIIS.  Oh,  oh! 

FREDERICK.  I  thought  that  on  a  day  like  this  your  minds 
might  be  more  open  to  what  is  stirring  me  most  deeply. 

RIIS.  So  that's  what's  stirring  you? 

MRS.  RIIS.  And  not  the  thought  of  your  father? 

RIIS.  Oh,  my  dear,  don't  mention  met 

FREDERICK.  Papa,  if  I  am  to  be  good  for  anything,  I  have 
to  begin  with  this.  I  see  that  now. 

RIIS.  Oh,  with  thia! 


250  THE   NEW   SYSTEM     ACT  iv.    sc.  n 

MRS.  Rus.  You  should  begin  with  your  father,  with  love 
and  trust  for  him! 

Rus.  Oh,  that's  of  no  importance! — But  this  other  thing! 
Then  I  am  sure  you'll  go  far!  Merciful  heavens,  then  noth- 
ing will  become  of  you!  You'll  spoil  your  career,  waste 
your  whole  future!  Why — a  seamstress! 

KAREN.  Yes,  but  a  good  girl,  papa! 

Rus.  Good?  .She?  I  am  astonished  at  you,  Karen. 
How  could  she  be  good,  who —  [With  a  glance  at  his  wife, 
in  a  low  voice]  Oh,  that's  right! — [Aloud]  Nobody  can  be 
called  good  who  wants  to  force  herself  upon  a  respectable 
family. 

FREDERICK.  But  she  doesn't  want  to. 

KAREN.  [Simultaneously]  No,  that's  just  what  she  doesn't 
want.  She  is  determined  to  go  to  her  relatives  in  America. 
She  doesn't  want  us  to  do  anything  out  of  pity.  She  is  a 
good  girl! 

Rus.  So  much  the  better!  Then  it's  all  settled.  When  she 
herself  doesn't  want  it? 

MRS.  Rus.  I  think  so,  too.     Since  she  is  going  anyhow. 

FREDERICK.  Yes,  but  7  want  it!  And  in  order  to  win  her 
around,  I  must  be  able  to  say:  My  parents  have  nothing 
against  you;  my  parents  are  kind  and  good. — If  you  could 
only  understand — I  can't  put  it  in  words! 

Rus.  No,  you  had  better  control  yourself,  Frederick. 

KAREN.  But  I,  who  have  seen  them  together,  I  under- 
stand. 

Rus.  You  are  feverish,  Karen.  I  think  you  ought  really 
to  be  in  bed. — Now,  don't  let  us  do  anything  quickly  in  this 
matter.  If  it  is  possible,  children,  let  us  choose  some  other 
time. 

MRS.  Rus.  Your  father  and  I  are  going  to  church.  [She 
goes  over  to  her  husband]  But  for  that  matter,  dearest,  I  think 


ACT  iv.    sc.  ii     THE  NEW  SYSTEM  251 

that  when  they  really  love  each  other,  then —  Why,  bless 
your  heart,  it's  love  that  is  the  greatest  thing  of  all. 

RIIS.  Yes,  Frederick  says  he  loves  her.  But  then  Fred- 
erick says  also  he  loves  us. 

MRS.  RIIS.  So  he  does. 

RIIS.  And  he  hasn't  even  thought  of  going  up  to  the  Diet 
to  find  out  what  is  becoming  of  his  father's  life-work.  That 
shows  how  great  his  love  is!  • 

FREDERICK.  Papa! 

RIIS.  I  don't  think,  my  dear,  that  we  need  to  be  alarmed 
by  his  declarations  of  love — not  even  when  they  concern 
others  than  ourselves. 

FREDERICK.  Papa! 

KAREN.  Oh,  don't  take  it  that  way! 

RIIS.  How  am  I  to  take  it,  then?  Perhaps  I  should  respect 
an  affair  like  this  last  one  of  Frederick's? 

FREDERICK.  Papa! 

RIIS.  Oh,  you  may  as  well  hear  the  truth! 

FREDERICK.  If  it  only  were  the  truth! 

RIIS.  What  was  that  you  said?         [General  silence  follows. 

MRS.  RIIS.  Go  away,  now,  Frederick. 

KAREN.  No,  papa,  I  cannot  bear  this  thing  any  longer. 

RIIS.  You  cannot?  Oh,  you  are  sick — that's  what  is  the 
matter  with  you. 

KAREN.  Yes,  I  am  sick.  But  I  am  sick  because  it  is  impos- 
sible for  us  to  deal  truthfully  with  each  other 

RIIS.  Oh,  are  we  back  there  again? 

MRS.  RIIS.  Now,  dearest! 

RIIS.  Yes,  I'll  try  not  to  lose  my  patience! — I  assure  you, 
Karen,  that  all  this  talk  about  sincerity  and  truth  is  nothing 
but  phrases. 

KAREN.  Phrases?    That? 

MRS.  RHS.  But,  dear 


252  THE   NEW   SYSTEM     ACT  iv.     sc.  n 

Rus.  Well,  now  don't  misunderstand  me.  I  don't  know 
exactly  how  to  put  it —  But  you  see,  don't  you,  that  I  have 
made  some  headway  in  the  world  after  all?  Haven't  I? 
Well,  don't  you  think  I  have  some  idea  of  how  it  has  hap- 
pened? 

MRS.  Rus.  Of  course,  dear! 

Rus.  But  do  you  think  I  have  made  my  way  as  far  as  I 
have  by  going  around  to  all  sorts  of  people  and  telling  them 
the  truth?  No;  had  I  done  that,  I  shouldn't  have  gone 
very  far. 

KAREN.  That  isn't  what  I  mean  either. 

Rus.  Well,  what  do  you  mean? — Oh,  is  there  never  going 
to  be  an  end  to  this? 

KAREN.  I  mean  that  among  ourselves,  to  ourselves 

Rus.  Well,  what's  the  matter  with  ourselves? 

KAREN.  Why,  I  am  not  sure  I  can  tell — not  now.  I  am 
so — I  am  so  kind  of — 

MRS.  Rus.  But  I  can,  dear.  It  is  true — yes,  it  is — that 
our  life  is  not  given  to  truth  and  love.  No,  it  isn't! 

Rus.  Yes,  when  everything  gets  mixed  up,  then  you  have 
to  take  a  hand.  Then  it's  your  chance. 

MRS.  Rus.  Dear! 

Rus.  I  beg  your  pardon — all  I  meant  was  that,  as  far  as 
the  truth  is  concerned,  we  don't  know  what  we  are  talking  of. 

MRS.  Rus.  Yes,  we  do. 

Rus.  Wait  a  moment.  I  am  a  mathematician,  and  I  am 
accustomed  to  exactness.  Do  you  think  anybody  is  abso- 
lutely truthful? 

MRS.  Rus.  Yes,  dear. 

Hi  is.  Why,  where's  your  head? — Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon — 
but  let  us  consider  any  kind  of  relationship  you  please.  Let 
us  turn  to  the  very  highest — to  the  highest  of  all — to  the 
King  and  our  relation  to  him.  He  makes  speeches  to  us,  and 


ACT  iv.    BC.  ii    THE  NEW  SYSTEM 

we  make  speeches  to  him.  Suppose  he  should  tell  us  just 
what  he  thinks  of  us,  or  we  were  to  let  him  know  all  we  hap- 
pen to  think  of  him?  Why,  the  law  won't  permit  it  even! 
We  would  be  punished  for  doing  it.  And  rightly,  too.  And 
as  for  him?  If  he  won't  be  satisfied  with  paying  us  compli- 
ments, he  has  to  speak  through  his  ministers — and  they  are 
not  the  kind  of  people  that  say  too  much.  Or  let  us  consider 
another  relationship — with  the  church. 

MRS.  Rns.  Why,  that's  sincere,  isn't  it? 

RIIS.  Of  course.  So  is  everything  else.  But  suppose  our 
minister,  instead  of  telling  us  what  the  Bible  and  his  oath  of 
office  prescribe,  should  begin  to  talk  of  his  own  doubts — 
and  who  is  entirely  free  from  them?  Wouldn't  that  make  a 
nice  little  rumpus? — although,  of  course,  it  would  be  nothing 
but  the  truth!  And  we,  too,  if  we  should  begin  to  vent  our 
doubts,  one  more  loudly  than  the  other?  Why,  the  result 
would  be  such  a  Babel  that  nobody  in  the  whole  world  could 
hear  himself  think!  No,  the  only  way  is  to  let  the  world 
run  in  accordance  with  custom  and  law — here  a  little  more, 
there  a  little  less.  The  main  thing  is  that  it  does  run.  And 
if  you  want  order  in  it — why,  then  it  w  in  order. 

KAREN.  But,  papa — 

RIIS.  Oh,  you  are  sick!  But  am  I  not  right?  Now,  look 
at  us  here,  for  instance. 

MRS.  RIIS.  But  really,  dear,  we  tell  each  other  the  truth. 

RIIS.  Oh,  we  do,  do  we?  Suppose  I  were  to  tell  you  the 
truth,  the  whole,  unqualified  truth — why,  we  shouldn't  be 
living  together  another  day — 

MRS.  Rns.  But  now,  dear! 

KAREN.  [Speaking  simultaneously  with  Mrs.  Riu]  You 
don't  mean  it,  papa! 

RIIS. in  peace,  I  mean.  And  vice  versa  also.  Not 

because  you  or  I  arc  worse  than  others.  Perhaps  we  are  bet- 


254  THE   NEW  SYSTEM     ACT  iv.     sc.  n 

ter  than  most.  But  if  everything  is  to  be  blurted  out,  then 
it  all  goes  to  pieces — family,  society,  nation,  church,  every- 
thing would  go  to  pieces.  Yes,  we  should  be  reduced  to  mere 
animals — for  as  a  rule  it  would  be  nothing  but  the  animal  in 
us  that  spoke. 

KAREN.  But  listen  to  me — all  that  is  not  what  I  am  think- 
ing of. 

MRS.  Rus.  No,  it  is  not  what  we  are  thinking  of. 

Rns.  No,  that  is  not  what  you  are  thinking  of,  when  it  is 
placed  before  you  in  its  proper  light.  I  knew  that,  of  course. 
But  now  perhaps  you  can  perceive  what  lies  hidden  beneath 
those  insidious  phrases. — Life  is  so  far  from  being  based  on 
truth  that,  instead,  all  its  fundamental  relations  are  based 
on  a  tacit  agreement  never  to  let  the  whole  truth  out.  To  be 
more  truthful  than  custom  demands  is  nonsensical,  unman- 
nerly, stupid — perhaps  even  dangerous. 

KAREN.  But  just  let  me  answer 

Rns.  Wait  a  moment.  The  art  of  life,  the  great  art  of 
living,  is  a  question  of  balance,  of  strategy — no,  strategy  is 
so  often  misused:  let  me  stick  to  balance. 

MRS.  Rus.  But,  dear! 

Rns.  Oh,  lord,  haven't  I  for  so  many  years  been  dealing 
with  people  both  above  and  below  myself?  I  ought  to  know 
how  the  thing  is  to  be  managed.  Now,  this — is — the — 
thing:  not  to  "queer"  yourself.  Of  course,  you  shouldn't 
do  anything  that  is  wrong  either.  It  is  a  great  foolishness 
to  do  anything  wrong.  And  then,  of  course,  it  is  against 
the  law 

MRS.  Rus.  And  against  what  we  were  taught  in  our  child- 
hood. 

Rns.  And  what  we  were  taught  in  our  childhood  also,  of 
course.  But  this — is — the — thing:  to  get  out  of  everything 
in  an  easy,  proper,  gentlemanly  way, — Prrrr! 


ACT  iv.    6c.ii    THE  NEW  SYSTEM  255 

FREDERICK.  And  may  I  ask  what  is  the  meaning  of  all 
this?  The  application? 

RIIS.  This  is  the  meaning  and  the  applieation:  you  have 
been  guilty  of  a  piece  of  foolishness —  [Coming  closer  to 
FREDERICK]  and  I  suppose  it  was  "sincere"  enough  of  its  kind. 

FREDERICK.  Papa! 

RIIS.  And  undoubtedly  your  marrying  her  would  also  be 
"sincere" — I  have  not  the  slightest  doubt! 

FREDERICK.  Oh,  papa,  please! 

RIIS.  But  it  would  only  be  another  piece  of  foolishness. 
Which  means  that  it  wouldn't  lead  anywhere  in  particular — 
except  up  into  the  air,  into  the  blue.  And  there  it's  very 
hard  to  keep  one's  balance. 

MRS.  RIIS.  I  think  it's  time  for  us  to  start  now,  dear. 

RIIS.  Right  you  are! — Well,  this  was  not  what  ought  to 
have  been  occupying  our  minds,  but  I  suppose  it  will  prove 
useful  in  some  way.  And  it  has  helped  to  take  my  mind  off 
other  things.  Yes,  yes! — Oh,  Frederick,  help  me  on  with 
my  coat,  please! — and  go  up  to  the  Diet  and  find  how  soon 
they  are  likely  to  come  to  a  decision. — I  shouldn't  won- 
der if  my  friends  proved  to  be  in  the  majority,  after  all. 
And,  speaking  quite  frankly,  do  you  think  that  would  be  the 
case  if  I  had  begun  life  as  you  now  want  to  begin  it? — Pull 
down  the  coat  a  little  behind — that's  it. 

MRS.  RIIS.  Now,  dear,  you  must  come. 

RIIS.  Yes,  yes.  Oh,  well,  there  is  no  time  to  prepare  oneself 

as  one  ought  to.   Good-bye,  children.   May  God  be  with  you ! 

[KAREN  breaks  into  hysterical  laughter. 

RIIS.  What  is  it? 

MRS.  RIIS.  [Shaking  simultaneously  u-ith  Riis]  Karen! 

FREDERICK.  I  expected  it! 

KAREN.  Ha,  ha,  ha,  ha,  ha,  ha,  ha! 

The  scene  changes  to  the  room  at  KAMPE'S  as  before  in  Act  I. 


256  THE  NEW  SYSTEM    ACT  iv.    sc.  ra 

THIRD    SCENE 
HANS  is  working  at  the  table.    LARSSEN  comes  in. 

LARSSEN.  I  beg  your  pardon! 

HANS.  Glad  to  see  you!  [Rising]  You  look  hot.  Perhaps 
you'll  let  me 

LARSSEN.  Nothing  at  all,  thank  you. 

HANS.  But  won't  you ? 

LARSSEN.  No,  thank  you. 

HANS.  Won't  you  sit  down? 

LARSSEN.  Thank  you,  I  will  in  a  moment [Pause. 

HANS.  Perhaps  it's  my  father  you  are  looking  for,  Mr. 
Larssen. 

LARSSEN.  No.  [Pause. 

HANS.  Have  you  been  listening  to  the  debate  in  the  Diet? 

LARSSEN.  [After  a  moment's  hesitation]  Yes. 

HANS.  Nothing  has  been  settled  yet? 

LARSSEN.  No 

HANS.  But  I  cannot  do  anything  about  that,  can  I? 

LARSSEN.  Oh,  you  cannot? — Will  you  let  me  have  a  look 
at  the  French — at  the  verified  French  report  of  the  speech 
made  by  the  Director-General  before  the  Railroad  Congress? 

HANS.  It  is  quoted  in  my  book. 

LARSSEN.  I  know.  But  in  this  case  it  is  a  question  of  the 
authentic  document.  That  is  to  say,  in  so  far  as  that  can 
prove  anything. 

HANS.  Why,  as  it  happens,  I  have  just  been  using  the  pub- 
lication in  question [Goes  over  to  the  table. 

LARSSEN.  [Following  him]  Would  you  let  me  look  at  it? 

HANS.  You're  welcome. 

LARSSEN.  Will  you  permit  me  to  sit  down? 

HANS.  Of  course. 


ACT  iv.    sc.ra   THE  NEW  SYSTEM  257 

LARSSEN.  Thank  you.  [N/V.v  down]  Oh,  this  is  the  publica- 
tion? [Examining  the  outside  of  it  carefully]  French?  Yes. 
Paris.  Mm! 

He  studies  the  imprint,  the  list  of  contents,  the  date  of 
publication,  and  finally  he  reads  a  little  here  and  a 
little  there,  frequently  comparing  one  passage  with 
another. 

HANS.  [To  himself]  I  think  he  is  making  a  comparison  of 
the  print — as  if  he  believed  I  might  have  inserted  something. 
[Aloud]  You  see  that  marked  passage— — ? 

LARSSEN*.  Yes,  I  see. 

HANS.  Perhaps  you  would  like  to  see  how  I  have  trans- 
lated it.  [I^cks  up  a  copy  of  his  book. 

LARSSEX.  Thank  you. 

HANS.  Page  49,  farthest  down — the  marked  passage. 

LARSSEN.  I  have  it.  [Begins  to  compare. 

HANS.  Have  you  found  any  mistakes? 

LARSSEN.  Not  yet. 

HANS.  Well,  I  don't  think  you  will. 

LARSSEN  puts  away  the  book  with  a  sigh  and  buries  him- 
self in  the  French  publication  again. 

HANS.  Well,  I  don't  think  you  will  find  it  necessary  to  read 
the  rest.  It's  only  the  marked  place  that  counts.  But  it  is 
enough. 

LARSSEN.  If  it  were  correct — it  would  be  enough. 

HANS.  If  it  were  correct? — Don't  you  believe  it? 

LARSSEN.  No. 

HANS.  But,  my  dear  Mr.  Larssen,  don't  you  see  that  the 
report  was  taken  down  on  the  spot  and  approved  by  the 
speaker  himself? 

LARSSEN.  So  it  says. 

HANS.  And  still  you  do  not  believe? 

LARSSEN.  No. 


258  -  THE  NEW  SYSTEM   ACT  TV.    sc.  m 

HANS.  Do  you  think  that  the  publication,  as  a  whole  or 
in  part,  has  been  tampered  with?  Do  you  think  the  report  is 
forged? 

LARSSEN.  I  don't  know —  But  I  have  perfect  faith  in  the 
Director-General . 

HANS.  You're  welcome  to  it! 

LARSSEN.  I  might  say  that  he  is  too  moral  a  man,  too 
respectable,  too  trustworthy,  to  do  such  a  thing.  But  em- 
ployed in  such  a  manner,  my  words  would  imply  an  insult. 
I  am  satisfied  with  saying  that  he  is  too  clever  a  man — by 
far  too  clever — to  do  such  a  thing.  He  is  the  cleverest  man 
I  have  ever  met. 

HANS.  Yes,  he's  clever.     But  if  you 

LARSSEN.  I  have  no  intention  of  entering  upon  any  argu- 
ment. Neither  with  you,  nor  with  anybody  else.  I  believe 
what  I  believe. 

HANS.  And  not  what  you  see? 

LARSSEN.  I  have  seen  nothing. 

•HANS.  Why,  that  beats  everything!  When  his  own  words 
l-— words  authorized  by  himself 

LARSSEN.  I  have  not  seen  them.  For  I  dare  not  say  that 
I  have  seen  a  thing  until  that  thing  has  been  investigated. — 
\Will  you  let  me  borrow  this  publication? 

HANS.  With  pleasure. 

LARSSEN.  Thank  you!  [Takes  the  publication. 

HANS.  But — only  on  one  condition 

LARSSEN.  N-n-no.  I  will  not  be  entangled  by  any  kind  of 
condition.  I  will  promise  nothing. 

[Puts  the  publication  back  on  the  table. 

HANS.  It  is  not  a  difficult  promise.  Only  that  you  are 
to  acknowledge  it  openly  if  you  find  what  I  have  found. 

LARSSEN.  [Picking  up  the  publication  again]  I  don't  prom- 


ACTIV.    sc.  iv    THE  NEW  SYSTEM  259 

ise  what  is  a  foregone  conclusion.     I  have  no  desire  to  deceive 
anybody.    Neither  anybody  else  nor  myself.     Good-bye. 

[He  takes  his  hat. 

HANS.  I  believe  that  of  you,  Mr.  Larssen. 

LARSSEN.  I  am  not  at  all  in  need  of  such  an  expression  on 
your  part.          [Turn*  to  go  and  runs  into  FREDERICK  RAVN. 


FOURTH    SCENE 
HANS.    LARSSEN.    RAVN. 

RAVN.  Why,  I  declare!  This  is  a  collision  of  two  prin- 
ciples. 

LARSSEN.  [Returning]  I  must  protest  against  any  kind  of 
insulting  remarks — particularly  from  you! 

RAVN.  What's  the  matter  with  you?    Insulting  remarks? 

LARSSEN.  I  am  no  principle.  Even  if  I  possess  sufficient 
self-control  to  observe  certain  established  rules,  I  am  no  prin- 
ciple. I  am  a  living  human  being. 

RAVN.  Well,  if  you  say  so  yourself,  I  suppose  we  must 
believe  it. 

LARSSEN.  [Returning  once  more]  So  you  haven't  known 
before  that  I  was  a  living  human  being? 

RAVN.  Oh,  yes,  yes,  yes! 

LARSSEN.  Oh,  you  really  have!  [Goes  out. 

RAVN  and  HANS.  [Simultaneously]  Ha,  ha,  ha! 

RAVN.  What  has  happened? 

HANS.  I  have  to  ask  that!  For  he  was  excited  before  he 
came  here.  He  came  from  the  Diet. 

RAVN.  I  saw  him.    What  did  he  come  for? 

HANS.  For  that  French  publication  which 

RAVN.  Oh-h!    Then  I  understand. 

HANS.  What? 


260  THE   NEW   SYSTEM    ACT  iv.    sc.  iv 

RAVN.  A  speech  by  the  Chairman  of  the  Railroad  Com- 
mittee. 

HANS.  Oh,  is  that  so?  But,  dear  man,  why  are  you  here? 
Now?  When  they  are  in  session? 

RAVN.  Oh,  we  have  adjourned  for  an  hour.  Give  me  a 
glass  of  water! 

HANS.  There  you  are!    Nothing  else? 

RAVN.  No,  thank  you. 

HANS.  Have  you  spoken? 

RAVN.  The  Chairman  of  the  Railroad  Committee  has  spoken. 

HANS.  Yes,  of  course. 

RAVN.  You  don't  understand.  He  is  almost  on  your  side. 
He  has  changed  front. 

HANS.  Changed  front?  The  Chairman  of  the  Railroad 
Committee? 

RAVN.  That  is  to  say,  to  some  extent.  I  don't  think  we 
can  get  him  beyond  that  point.  But  it  is  an  event  as  it  is. 

HANS.  I  should  say  so!  And  what  has  caused  it?  The 
campaign  in  the  press? 

RAVN.  Do  you  call  it  a  campaign?  Then  you  must  be 
easily  satisfied.  No,  in  our  conditions  that  kind  of  thing 
is  entirely  the  result  of  casual  personal  contacts  and  impres- 
sions. His  change  of  heart  dates  back  to  the  dinner  which  the 
Director-General  gave  to  the  engineers. 

HANS.  But  how  can  that  be? 

RAVN.  There  he  saw  your  father  and  yourself  together,  and 
what  he  saw  made  him  trust  you.  That's  what  he  hadn't 
done  before. 

HANS.  There  now ! 

RAVN.  Don't  cry  victory  yet,  my  boy. 

HANS.  But  then  you  will  speak  also? 

RAVN.  The  Chairman  has,  in  the  main,  said  all  I  should 
have  to  say. 


ACT  iv.    BC.IV    THE  NEW  SYSTEM  261 

HANS.  But  nevertheless? 

RAVN.  Frankly  speaking,  Hans,  I  don't  care  to  appear  pub- 
licly in  opposition  to  my  brother-in-law. 

HANS.  What  do  you  mean? 

RAVN.  Nobody  should  be  driven  into  doing  what  is  against 
his  nature.  And  I  don't  like  to  stir  up  scandal —  Your 
drinking  water  is  very  good. 

HANS.  But  you  must  vote  at  least? 

RAVN.  I  think  I  shall  stay  away.  It  was  to  tell  you  that  I 
came  here. — Have  you  a  cigar  to  give  me? — Thanks. — What's 
the  use  of  your  standing  there  making  eyes  at  me?  Pri- 
vately I  can  very  well  be  against  him,  and  I  am.  Publicly  I 
keep  my  mouth  shut — just  because  I  am  against  him.  This 
is  the  more  dignified  way,  or  rather,  it's  the  only  one. 

HANS.  And  the  country? 

RAVN.  The  country,  the  country?  Are  there,  then,  no  pri- 
vate circumstances  within  it?  Even  stupidities  involve  the 
honour  and  welfare  of  numerous  families.  And  such  things 
are  more  important  than  money. 

HANS.  But  back  of  the  money  we  find 

RAVN.  — the  taxpayers.  A  very  distant  relationship, 
which  they  themselves  often  don't  realise —  Oh,  of  course,  I 
don't  mean  that  the  stupidities  are  to  be  preserved  for  all 
eternity.  All  I  mean  is  that  we  shouldn't  delve  too  much  in 
everything,  and  thereby  make  the  trouble  still  worse.  It 
comes  out  all  right  in  the  end,  if  we  only  give  it  time.  I  am 
growing  tired  of  the  whole  job. 

HANS.  They  tell  me  that  you  are  brother-in-law  to  the 
stupidities — 

RAVN.  What  is  that  you  are  saying? 

HANS.  — and  also  their  godfather. 

RAVN.  I? 

HANS.  You  were  the  man  who  got  them  praised  abroad. 


THE  NEW  SYSTEM    ACT  rv.    sc.  iv 

For  from  abroad  must  come  whatever  is  to  succeed  here. 
And  in  this  case  the  success  was  so  marked  that  it  made  even 
you  hesitate.  But  you  kept  silent.  And  your  silence  was 
very  expensive — to  yourself  and  to  the  country  alike. 

RAVN.  How  the  devil  did  you  get  hold  of  that? — Oh, 
this  cigar  is  too  damned  strong!  [Throws  it  away. 

HANS.  Now  I  expect  nothing  less  of  you  than  that  you  re- 
turn to  the  Diet  and  confess  your  own  share  in  the  mischief 
made 

RAVN.  Well,  I'll  be 

HANS.  — that  you  confess  yourself  ashamed  at  not  having 
spoken  up  before 

RAVN.  But,  Hans? 

HANS.  — and  that  you  ask  the  others  to  do  the  same — 
that  is,  confess  that  they  have  made  a  mistake,  and  that  they 
have  waited  too  long  to  say  so. 

RAVN.  In  other  words,  we  are  to  strip  ourselves  naked? 
Oh,  you  arch-sentimentalist,  you  king  of  all  phrase-mongers! 
Will  you  please  accept  my  most  subservient  compliments? 
So  this  is  "the  new  system  of  the  new  generation"?  Is  it? 

HANS.  Jesting  is  of  no  use.  It  will  have  to  begin  with 
confessions 

RAVN.  Suit  yourself. 

HANS.  And  if  you  won't,  I  shall  assist  you. 

RAVN.  In  what  way — if  I  may  ask  Your  Profundity? 

HANS.  I  shall  reprint  the  articles  you  wrote  that  time. 
They  are  in  my  possession,  and  I  have  made  a  historical 
study  of  the  influence  they  exerted.  This  I  shall  set  forth — 
as  well  as  the  author's  name. — Now,  you  have  your  choice ! 

RAVN.  I  think  you  have  lost  your  reason!  Oh — you  are 
the  biggest  fool  the  world  ever  saw! 

KAMPE.  [Enters]  My,  but  you're  looking  glum!  What's 
up?  I  thought  you  were  in  the  Diet. 


ACT  iv.    sc.  iv    THE  NEW  SYSTEM  '„'<>:$ 

RAVN.  We  have  adjourned  for  an  hour. 

KAMPE.  Has  anything  happened,  as  you .      [Stops. 

HANS.  I'll  tell  you. 

RAVN.  No. 

HANS.  Yes.  Do  you  know  that  it  was  Father  Ravn  here 
who,  in  his  day — 

RAVN.  Stop  that  nonsense  now!  It's  my  concern,  and  not 
yours. 

KAMPE.  What  is  it? 

RAVN.  Oh,  it's  a  confounded  story,  that's  what  it  is — and 
that  fellow  over  there  is  a  regular  lunatic,  a  scatter-brained 
idealist,  an  inveterate  scandal -maker,  a  chatterbox — in  a 
word,  your  son!  Good-bye!  [Takes  up  his  hat. 

KAMPE.  Well,  well? 

HANS.  He  was  the  man  who  once  got  the  system  praised 
abroad  and  who  started  the  whole  mischief  in  that  way. 

KAMPE.  What  did  you  say? 

HANS.  It  was  he — none  but  he!  And  he  has  nicely  managed 
to  keep  it  covered  up  all  these  years.  And  now,  when  there 
is  a  chance  to  make  up  for  it,  he  wants  to  dodge  the  voting. 

RAVN.  [Coming  back  into  the  room  again]  Well,  don't  you 
know  that  a  speech  or  a  vote  more  or  less  doesn't  matter  at 
present?  For  the  system  is  not  going  to  be  dispensed  with 
just  yet — not  this  time.  So,  why  don't  you  leave  me  alone? 

HANS.  It's  the  proceedings  in  the  matter  that  are  the  main 
thing.  Every  issue  must  be  dealt  with  in  such  a  manner 
that  through  it  we  get  ahead  a  step  or  two,  morally  and 
intellectually.  [RAVN  starts  to  go;  HANS  follows  him]  Go  back 
to  the  Diet.  There  is  only  one  way  for  us  to  get  out  of  the 
mud  in  which  we  are  sticking:  let  us  stand  up  and  confess! 

KAMPE.  Ravn — you  have  got  to  do  it. 

RAVN.  Oh,  go  to  Hades  with  your  idiotic  talk! 

HANS.  Don't  then!    And  I'll  do  it  for  you. 


264  THE   NEW  SYSTEM     ACT  iv.     sc.  v 

RAVN.  [Going  up  to  KAMPE]  Did  you  ever  hear  anything 
like  it?  What  kind  of  generation  is  this? 

KAMPE.  We  were  too  easy-going  in  our  day.  Now  these 
young  ones  are  a  little  too  keen,  perhaps. 

RAVN.  He  will  ruin  himself,  just  as  you  ruined  yourself, 
only  in  a  different  fashion. — Well,  now  I  must  go.  Any 
cigars? — Oh,  that's  right,  they're  too  strong  for  me. 

KAMPE.  Good-bye. 

HANS.  [Simultaneously]  Are  you  going  to  speak? 

RAVN.  Oh,  I  am  not  proclaiming  in  advance  what  I  am 
going  to  do. — Lunatic!  [Goes  out  to  the  left. 

KAMPE.  I  never  thought  that  he—  [Stops. 

HANS.  Well,  there  you  are.  Even  those  who  are  held  par- 
ticularly outspoken  among  us,  are  as  cowardly  as  the  rest. 
They  only  feel  differently  about  it. 

KAMPE.  Well,  well! 

HANS.  Look — who's  coming  there? 

KAMPE.  What?     Karen ! 

HANS.  And  the  way  she  looks. — 

KAMPE.  I  think  something 

HANS.  Oh,  what  can  it  mean?  Step  aside  a  little,  will  you? 
— Karen!  [She  appears  in  the  doorway  on  the  right  side. 


FIFTH    SCENE 

HANS.  KAMPE.  KAREN  has  no  hat  on  and  appears 
just  as  she  was  when  she  rose  from  the  bed  or  couch 
on  which  FREDERICK  had  laid  her  after  her  attack  of 
hysterics. 

KAREN.  No  one  must  see  me.  I  have  stolen  out  of  the 
house.  Mamma  thought  I  was  sleeping.  Hans,  let  us  make 
haste ! 


ACT  iv.    sc.v     THE  NEW  SYSTEM  265 

HANS.  Where? 

KAREN.  Away — very  far  away.    Come  now! 

HANS.  Yes. 

KAREN.  For  I  can't  stay  at  home  any  longer.  No,  I 
won't! 

HANS.  No? 

KAMPE  signals  to  HANS,  pointing  first  to  KAREN,  then 
to  himself;  then  in  direction  of  KAREN'S  home;  then 
he  hurries  out, 

HANS.  You  are  sick? 

KAREN.  Yes,  I  am  sick — for  I  have  such  a  pain  here — 
especially  in  here — oh,  such  a  pain,  such  a  pain — oh,  this 
struggle! 

HANS.  But  you  should  wait  till  you  are  well  again. 

KAREN.  No,  I'll  never  get  well  at  home.  No! — They  say 
that  I  don't  sleep  enough.  But  it  isn't  that!  No — I  have 
known  a  long  time  what  it  was.  But  I  haven't  wanted  to 
speak  of  it.  I  can  tell  it  to  you,  but  nobody  else  must  hear  it. 

HANS.  Nobody  will! 

KAREN.  Do  you  remember  when  we  were  children  and  went 
out  rowing  together? 

HANS.  Yes. 

KAREN.  Why  can't  we  do  that  now?    Come! 

HANS.  Karen! 

KAREN.  Oh,  how  nice  it  is  to  feel  your  hand  about  mine! 
How  good  it  feels!  Just  as  when  we  were  children.  I  think 
of  it  every  day.  Don't  you  do  that  also? 

HANS.  Karen! 

KAREN.  If  you'll  only  row  me  far,  far  away,  then  everything 
will  be  as  it  used  to  be. 

HANS.  But  hadn't  you  better  rest  a  little  first?  You  are  so 
tired. 


266  THE  NEW  SYSTEM     ACT  iv.     sc.  v 

KAREN.  Not  at  all.     It's  only  my  head — oh,  that  feels 
good,  so  good!    Now  I  feel  quiet,  Hans! 

HANS.  Do  you? 

KAREN.     Yes.     For  I  have  had  a  hard  time.     Oh,  this 
struggle,  this  struggle! 

HANS.  But  hadn't  you  better  rest? 

KAREN.  I  am  resting  now. 

HANS.  Sit  down  here,  and  you'll  rest  still  better. 

KAREN.  But  remember,  we  must  go  away. 

HANS.  At  once! — Now  sit  down  here. 

KAREN.  No,  you  must  sit  down  first. 

HANS.  All  right.  [He  sits  down. 

KAREN.  And  I'll  sit  here.  [Sits  down  on  the  sofa. 

HANS.  That's  it.  [He  keeps  her  hand  in  his. 

KAREN.  Poor  little  mamma! 

HANS.  Should  we  let  your  mother  know? 

KAREN.  No. — Poor,  poor  mamma! 

HANS.  Yes,  she  is  kind. 

KAREN.  Do  you  like  me? 

HANS.  I  have  never  liked  anybody  else. 

KAREN.  Why  did  you  start  all  this  struggle  then? 

^HANS.  But  you  agreed  with  me  about  it  before? 

KAREN.  We  women  have  to  bear  the  worst  of  it. 

HANS.  Dearest! 

KAREN.  It/  wasn't  nice  of  you,  Hans. 

HANS.  Karen! 

KAREN.  No,  not  nice — not  nice  at  all 

HANS.  She's  sleeping. 

FREDERICK  appears  in  the   background,   approaching 
hurriedly.     HANS  leaves  him  back. 

KAREN.  What  is  it,  Hans? 

HANS.  Oh,  I  thought  you  were  asleep?    Are  you  not  all 
right  now? 


ACT  iv.    sc.v     THE   NEW  SYSTEM  267 

KAREN.  Yes — it's  all  right.  [Silence 

FREDERICK.  Is  she  asleep? 
HANS  nods  affirmation. 
FREDERICK.  That's  good! 

Comes  nearer  on  tiptoe;  holds  out  both  hands  to  HANS, 

who  gives  him  the  one  hand  that's  free. 
KARL  RAVN.  [In  from  the  left]  Come  up  to  the  Diet!    Uncle 

Frederick  is  going  to 

FREDERICK  and  HANS.    [ Turning  toicard  KARL]  Hush! 
KARL.  [Who  has  stopped  on  seeing  FREDERICK]  Oh,  are  you 
here?     What's  up? 
BOTH.  Hush! 

Curtain. 


ACT   V 

The  private  office  of  the  Director-General  in  his  home  by  the  sea. 

FIRST    SCENE 

When  the  curtain  rises,  Rus  is  seen  escorting  a  gentle- 
man to  the  door  and  beyond  it  with  the  utmost  courtesy. 
Then  he  comes  slowly  back  into  the  room  and  takes  up 
a  position  in  the  middle  of  it.  There  he  stands  for  a 
few  moments  with  his  feet  far  apart. 

Rus.  So  His  Excellency  is  in  doubt!  I  have  been  sus- 
pecting it.  There  was  an  unmistakable  question  in  his  eyes — 
whether,  at  bottom,  I  was  not  in  doubt  myself.  [Brings  his 
feet  together  and  walks  around  a  few  steps,  but  soon  he  resumes, 
as  if  unconsciously,  his  previous  position]  Doubt — yes,  yes, 
doubt? — What  is  there  in  this  world  that  cannot  be  doubted? 
— And  it  is  the  same  thing  in  the  office.  Exactly  the  same 
kind  of  eyes.  They  have  been  vouching  for  the  system,  those 
fellows.  And  now  they  are  in  a  dilemma.  They  have  lost 
their  own  faith — and  now  they  are  drawing  on  mine.  Except 
Larssen.  He  has  faith! — But  when  a  firmly  founded,  whole- 
some nature  like  Larssen  can  have  faith  in  it,  then  I  am  sure 
there  must  be  something  to  it.  There  must! — I  had  my 
doubts  in  the  beginning — yes,  I  had!  The  whole  thing 
seemed  too  good  to  be  true — but  by  that  time  the  others 
were  convinced — and  they  restored  my  own  conviction — 
At  bottom  it  is  entirely  their  fault— indeed,  it  is ! — Of  course, 
it  is!  There  is  no  question  about  it.  The  whole  thing  had 
been  turned  into  a  national  cause  before  anybody  knew  what 

268 


ACTV.    BC.I      THE  NEW  SYSTEM  269 

was  happening.  To  believe  became  a  habit,  and  all  the 
doubters  were  laughed  into  silence. — Those  were  beautiful 
days!  Oh,  my! — And  then — then  a  young  fellow  comes  back 
from  America  and  joins  hands  with  an  old  drunkard — and 
that's  all  that's  needed!  It's  almost  like  a  fairy  tale!  No 
amount  of  chloroform  will  help  any  longer — it  has  to  be 
fought  out — and  when  it's  all  over,  I  find  myself  left  behind 
like  "a  bridge  across  dry  land."  [Bringing  his  feet  together 
again]  That's  an  infernal  habit  I  have  got  into! — But  what 
am  I  to  do  now?  Act  as  if  nothing  had  happened?  Impos- 
sible! Those  confounded  eyes  are  pursuing  me.  If  I  only 
had  faith  myself — !  Larssen  has!  But  when  Larssen  be- 
lieves, there  must  be  something  to  believe  in.  And  haven't 
I  proved  that  there  is?  Yes,  I  have — and  there  can  be  no 
question  about  it. — Larssen  is  so  complete.  Larssen  believes 
in  himself — and  that's  the  real  trick.  Yes,  that's  what  all 
hangs  on! — Why  the  deuce  can't  I  believe  in  myself?  I  am 
the  man  who  has  furnished  Larssen  with  all  the  proofs — those 
very  proofs  on  which  his  faith  is  founded! — Yes,  but  /  don't 
believe  in  them  any  longer —  No — yes — no — I  don't  be- 
lieve— not  quite.  There  is  something — Now,  there  I  am 
with  my  legs  the  old  way  again ! — "A  bridge  across  dry  land!" 
— It  seems  to  me  as  if  everybody  was  staring  at  my  legs  ever 
since  that  thing  was  printed  in  the  paper.  [  firings  his  feet 
together  nervously  and  begins  to  walk  aijain]  If  I  had  anybody 
— anybody  that  really  believed  in  me! — Kamma? — Of  course, 
— she  means  well — [with  a  sigh]  but — Marie?  Yes,  you 
would  have  been  the  right  one  now!  And  much  I  would 
have  bothered  about  the  rest  then!  You  were  so  wise  and 
strong — you  would  have  kept  me  firm — and  it  would  never 
have  come  to  this! — Oh,  it's  nothing  but  that  family,  that 
confounded  family!  God  preserve  a  poor  human  creature 
from  falling  into  the  hands  of  enthusiasts!  Of  all  people 


270  THE   NEW   SYSTEM      ACT  v.     sc.  n 

they  are  the  most  treacherous — and  to  make  it  worse,  they 
call  that  honesty!  Even  my  own  children — Frederick!  Oh, 
Frederick!  He  is  always  looking  at  me  with  a  pair  of  eyes 
like  those  of  a  sick  animal.  He  has  his  doubts,  he,  too — and 
I  cannot  help  him!  They  have  poisoned  him,  for  their  blood 
is  in  him  also — the  traitors,  the  thieves!  [A  knock  at  the 
door  is  heard]  Thank  heaven,  somebody  is  coming!  It's  sim- 
ply dreadful  to  be  left  alone  in  this  way.  Come  in ! 


SECOND    SCENE 
LARSSEN.    INSPECTOR  RAVN.    Rus. 

Rus.  Oh,  it's  you,  Larssen?  That's  nice  of  you!  You 
are  just  the  man  I  want! — So,  the  Diet  has  partly  decided 
against  us,  but — not  in  principle,  Larssen. 

LARSSEN.  Not  in  principle. 

Rus.  A  man  who  does  things  has  always  strong  allies,  and 
then,  when  you  have  a  cause — a  cause  in  which  you  have 
faith 

LARSSEN.  Well — it's  on  that  it  depends 

Rus.  On  that?  [He  discovers  RAVN,  who  has  entered  behind 
LARSSEN]  Oh,  you? —  Are  you  there,  too? 

RAVN.  Yes,  why  not? 

Rus.  And  you  ask  that?  You,  who  publicly — oh,  this  is 
carrying  it  a  little  too  far! 

RAVN.  Oh,  is  it?  To  me  it  seems  as  if  I  had  a  great  deal 
better  right  to  come  here  than  I  had  before. 

Rus.  Indeed?    No 

RAVN.  Our  relationship  is  much  more  truthful  now.  But, 
of  course,  if  you  want  to  be  solemn  about  it,  I  can  leave. 

LARSSEN.  It  is  I  who  permitted  myself  to  ask  the  Canal 
Inspector  to  accompany  me  here. 


ACTV.    BC.II     THE  NEW  SYSTEM  271 

RIIS.  You,  Larssen?     How  can  that  be? 

RAVN.  Larssen  and  I  have  had  a  consultation — perhaps 
you  may  guess  about  what. 

RIIS.  No. 

RAVN.  Oh,  you  cannot? —  Well,  let's  get  out  the  docu- 
ments then.  There  is  doubt  in  the  air,  as  you  probably  know 
— and  we  wanted  you  to  settle  the  matter.  May  we  be 
seated?  [la  about  to  spread  out  some  papers  on  the  table. 

RIIS.  In  other  words,  you  mean  to  put  me  on  trial? 

RAVN.  Didn't  I  tell  you,  Larssen,  that  he  would  take  it  in 
that  way? 

RIIS.  What  does  that  mean? 

LARSSEN.  I  relied  on  the  kindness — on  the  generosity  you 
have  always  shown,  Mr.  Riis — and  your  impartiality — 

RIIS.  What  is  it  all  about?  If  it's  something  that  you, 
especially  you,  my  dear  Larssen,  want  to  find  out — then  you 
know  where  to  look  for  me. 

RAVN.  There  is  a  point  on  which  we  differ,  don't  you  under- 
stand? 

RIIS.  I  should  like  to  have  Mr.  Larssen's  explanation. 

RAVN.  Does  that  mean  that  you  want  me  to  go? 

RIIS.  [After  a  moment's  hesitation]  You  are  my  wife's 
brother — and  if  you  have  forgotten  it,  then  it  behooves  me, 
for  her  sake,  to  remember  it. 

RAVN.  How  very  considerate  of  you! 

LARSSEN.  Now  that's  what  I  expected  of  you,  Mr.  Riis. 
That's  the  way  I  have  always  seen  you.  And  it  is  for  that 
reason  I  venture  to  speak  openly  to  you. 

RIIS.  By  all  means,  Larssen.  We  two  hare  always  stood 
together. 

LARSSEN.  So  we  have,  Mr.  Riis.  It  has  been  the  pride  of 
my  life.  For  in  you — if  you  will  permit  me  to  say  so — I  have 


THE  NEW  SYSTEM      ACTV.    sc.  n 

beheld  a  man — a  man  standing  in  the  very  front  rank  of 
what  we  may  call  the  engineering  science  of  our  own  day. 

Rus.  You  have  always  over-estimated  me,  Larssen. 

LABSSEN.  And  nevertheless  you  have  been  generous 
enough —  Well,  I  have — if  you  will  permit  me  to  say  so — 
for  I  am  immensely — I  don't  know  how  to  express  it — I  have 
been  carried  beyond  my  usual — that  is,  I  have  entertained 
boundless  confidence  in  you,  Mr.  Riis! 

Rus.  And  I  in  you,  my  dear  Larssen. 

LABSSEN.  I  thank  you,  sir — but  it  is  wholly  undeserved 
on  my  part. 

Rus.  Not  at  all. 

LABSSEN.  Pardon  me.  I  know  better.  No,  indeed !  I  am 
not  a  strong  soul.  I  have  always  needed  a  support.  You, 
in  your  tremendous  superiority,  cannot  realise  what  that 
means. 

Rus.  Don't  say  that,  Larssen! 

LABSSEN.  Yes.  If  I  have  ever  admired  anything  in  this 
world,  it  has  been  the  lofty  equanimity  always  preserved  by 
you  when  my  own  soul  was  undermined  by  doubt. 

Rus.  Your ? 

LABSSEN.  What  a  thing  to  be  able,  as  you  have  been,  to 
concentrate  the  opposition  within  your  own  house,  so  to  speak ! 
This  smiling  self-assurance — yes,  smiling,  literally  smiling! 
That's  what  it  means  to  have  faith,  I  have  often  said  to  my- 
self. 

Rus.  But  tell  me,  Larssen — you  believe,  don't  you? 

LABSSEN.  I  want  to  be  frank,  Mr.  Riis. 

Rus.  You  always  are,  Larssen. 

LABSSEN.  Yes — that  is,  in  so  far  as  it  lies  in  me  to  be  so. 
For  frequently  I  have  not  known  where  I  stood — whether  I 
believed  or  not. 

Rus.  You,  Larssen? 


ACTV.    sc.n     THE  NEW  SYSTEM  273 

LARSSEN.  But  in  such  moments  I  drew  strength  from 
watching  you,  Mr.  Riis. 

RIIS.  You  watched  me?  [Quite  forgetting  himself]  That's 
something  you  should  not  have  done,  Larssen. 

LARSHEN.  But  heavens,  why  not,  Mr.  Riis? 

RIIS.  [Forgetting  himself  still  further]  No — because  I  put 
my  faith  in  you,  Larssen. 

LARSSEN.  [Horror-stricken]  In  me? —    You! 

RAVN.  This  is  becoming  quite  amusing. 

RIIS.  No — oh,  no — this  is  the  worst  I  ever — !  [Running 
back  and  forth]  Are  you,  then,  nothing  but  an  impostor? 

LARSSEN.  Wha — wha — what's  that  you  are  saying? 

RIIS.  Well,  what  do  you  want  to  call  it  that  you  have 
made  people,  that  you  have  made  me,  believe  that  you  be- 
lieved what  you  did  not  believe? 

LARSSEN.  Didn't  I  believe?     Of  course  I  believed! 

RIIS.  The  deuce  you  did!     You  only  believed  in  me. 

LARSSEN.  It  means  that  one  thing  went  with  the  other — as 
it  usually  does  in  this  world. 

RIIS.  It  means  that  one  lie  went  with  another!  Oh,  how 
could  I  let  myself  be  fooled  in  such  a  way? 

LARSSEN.  Fooled?  Yes,  one  of  us  has  been  fooled.  That 
new  system  of  yours 

RIIS.  Mine?     It  isn't  mine! 

LARSSEN.  Whose  can  it  be,  if  not  yours? 

RIIS.  It  was  in  practical  use  long  before  me. 

RAVN.  That's  a  fact. 

LARSSEN.  And  yet  it  was  you  who  introduced  it? 

RIIS.  I?  Am  I  the  government?  Am  I  the  Diet?  Havel 
the  power  to  introduce  anything? 

RAVN.  Hear,  hear! 

LARSSEN.  But  nevertheless — all  the  same — why,  it  was 
done  by  the  Commissions,  of  which  you 


274  THE  NEW  SYSTEM      ACTV.    sc.  n 

RIIS.  Do  you  think  I  appointed  the  Commissions?  Or 
that  they  were  made  up  of  me  alone? 

LARSSEN.  Well — this  is  the  end  of  it! 

RAVN.  That's  the  stuff!    Bravo! 

LARSSEN.  And  yet — why,  it  was — the  estimates  were  mis- 
leading. 

RIIS.  That's  too  bad!  For  the  estimates  were  made  by 
you,  Larssen — by  yourself  and  the  rest  of  the  office.  Have 
you  forgotten  that  this  fact  was  mentioned  in  every  report? 

LARSSEN.  F — f — finally,  it's  me  who — who  is  to  blame  for 
the  whole  thing? 

RIIS.  Well,  I'll  be  hanged  if  I  am! 

LARSSEN.  And  I  who  have  relied  so  completely  on  you! 

RIIS.  Well,  I  never  asked  you  to  do  anything  of  the  kind. 

LARSSEN.  And  this  language!    This  tone! 

RIIS.  Well,  you  may  be  sure  that's  "true" — there's  no 
deceit  in  that!  If  this  kind' of  thing  is  in  fashion,  I  can  be 
fashionable,  too.  Now,  Larssen,  you'd  better  go,  or  I  might 
become  "truthful"  to  the  extent  of  throwing  you  out. 

LARSSEN.  Good-bye,  M — M — Mr.  Riis!  [Goes  out 

RAVN.  I  might  as  well  take  away  the  papers  again — I 
don't  suppose  we'll  have  any  use  for  them. 

[Puts  the  papers  in  order. 

RIIS.  Oh,  go  to  the  devil  with  the  whole  outfit! 

RAVN.  Why,  this  is  lovely!  It's  a  real  joy  to  strike  the 
bottom  of  a  man's  character  for  once. 

RIIS.  [Comes  to  a  standstill,  as  if  struck  by  the  remark  just 
made]  I  have  long  enough  been  the  patient  one.  What 
would  be  the  use  of  it  in  this  case? 

RAVN.  Oh,  is  that  how  you  feel?  Then  you  had  better 
follow  my  example. 

RIIS.  [Stopping  again]  In  what  way? 

RAVN.  Confess  everything. 


ACTV.    sc.  m     THE  NEW  SYSTEM  275 

Rns.  I  have  nothing  to  confess. 

RAVN.  Oh,  you  haven't! —     Good-bye!  [Goes  out. 

Rns.  Confess? —     Why?     Is  the   man   crazy! —     Who's 

that?    Oh,  you!  [MRS.  Rns  enters. 


THIRD    SCENE 
Rns.     MBS.  Rns.     FREDERICK  a  little  later. 

RIIS.  You  also? —  What  are  you  crying  for?  What's  the 
matter,  now?  I  haven't  time,  and  I'm  in  no  mood  for  it. 

MRS.  Rns.  [Weeping]  Fred-er-ick — 

RIIS.  Well?     What  about  him?     What  about  him? 

MRS.  Rns.  — has  told  me  all.  [Still  weeping. 

Rns.  All  of  what?  [FREDERICK  comes  in]  What's  all  this? 

FREDERICK.  About  Anna,  papa. 

RIIS.  There  now!  Do  bring-  out  everything  at  once! 
You  have  just  hit  on  the  right  moment  for  it. 

MRS.  RIIS.  There  is  nothing  for  it,  dear,  but  that  Fred- 
erick must  start  after  her  at  once. 

Rns.  Well,  if  this  doesn't  beat  everything!  He  sha'n't 
move  from  the  spot!  Do  you  think  Frederick  has  duties  to 
every  possible  kind  of  human  being  but  me?  I  might  over- 
look his  disloyalty 

FREDERICK.  What  do  you  mean? 

MRS.  RIIS.  [Speaking  simultaneously  with  FREDERICK]  Dear! 

RIIS.  Yes,  to-day  I  have  become  "sincere"  also.  I  can 
overlook  it  as  long  as  it  is  known  only  to  myself.  But  for 
him  to  leave  now — it  would  seem  as  if  he  fled  from  a  sinking 
ship.  I'll  never  in  the  world  permit  it. 

FREDERICK.  Then  I  shall  have  to  leave  without  your  per- 
mission. 

MRS.  Rns.  But,  Frederick! 


276  THE   NEW  SYSTEM     ACT  v.     sc.  ra 

Rus.  Yes,  you  just  try! —  Did  anybody  ever  experience 
anything  like  it  before? 

MBS.  RIIS.  Be  loving  now,  dear! 

RIIS.  Oh,  leave  me  alone  with  your  babblings  about  love! 

FREDERICK.  No,  now  I  have  to — 

RIIS.  Are  you  two  in  a  conspiracy?  And  all  this  comes 
from  that  miserable  family  of  yours! 

MRS.  RIIS.  You  are  always  saying  unpleasant  things  about 
my  family! 

RIIS.  Well,  isn't  it  responsible  for  the  whole  disaster? — 
Oh,  what  a  misfortune  to  be  tied  to  that  kind  of  company! 
What  haven't  I  done  to  maintain  some  kind  of  balance! 
To  preserve  outward  propriety  at  least! —  And  now — ! 
When  everything  is  tumbling  down  about  me,  then  my  own 
children  turn  on  me,  led  by  their  mother.  One  of  them 
throws  herself  into  the  arms  of  my  worst  enemy 

MRS.  RIIS.  But  she  didn't  know  what  she  was  doing! 

RIIS.  The  other  one  into  the  arms  of  a  strumpet. 

FREDERICK.  Now,  you  had  better  go,  mamma! 

MRS.  RIIS.  Oh,  Frederick !  Forgive  him!  He  has  suffered 
so  much! — Dear,  I  have  never  seen  you  like  this! 

RIIS.  No,  you  haven't.  But  when  a  man  has  spent  all 
his  life  patiently  listening  to  all  sorts  of  unendurable  twaddle 
— then — just  for  once — perhaps  I  may  also  say  what  I  think! 

MRS.  RIIS.  No,  this  is  not  what  you  think,  dear.  I 
know  it. 

RIIS.  Yes,  it  is !  I  think  that  you  have  taken  the  children 
away  from  me 

MRS.  RIIS.  I? 

RIIS.  You  and  yours — in  a  way,  that  is — before  they  were 
born  even. 

MRS.  RIIS.  Dearest,  I  cannot  help  that  the  children  take 
after  my  family.  [She  begins  to  weep. 


ACTV.    sc.  iv     THE   NEW   SYSTEM  277 

Rns.  Oh,  if  you  hadn't  thought  more  of  the  family  than 
of  me,  I  guess  those  cubs  of  yours  would  have  resembled  me  a 
little  more. 

FREDERICK.  Now,  mamma,  you  mustn't  stay  any  longer! 
Come  now! 

MRS.  Rus.  You  can't  speak  to  your  father  without  me. 

FREDERICK.  Oh,  yes,  I  can.  [Leading  her  to  the  door. 

MRS.  Rus.  But  Karen?     I  was  to 

FREDERICK.  I'll  speak  about  Karen  also. 

MRS.  Rus.  Please  remember  what  he  has  had  to  bear! 

FREDERICK.  Mamma! 

Embraces  and  kisses  her;  then  he  leads  her  out  and 
returns  alone. 


FOURTH    SCENE 

Rus.     FREDERICK. 

Rus.  I  don't  want  any  further  conversation. 

FREDERICK.  No,  but  7  do.  [Takes  out  a  letter. 

Rus.  I  hope  you'll  understand  that  my  patience  is  at  an 
end. 

FREDERICK.  And  so  is  mine. 

[Takes  another  letter  out  of  the  first  one. 

Rus.  Go: 

FREDERICK.  Here  is  something  from  a  person  named  Marie. 

Rus.  Marie? 

FREDERICK.  You  know  her,  don't  you?  [Reads]  "Your 
mother  writes  to  me,  dear  Anna,  that  you  love  Frederick 
Riis,  the  son  of  the  Director-General,  and  that  he  is  offering 
to  marry  you."  [Stops  reading  to  say]  Pardon  me — but  I 
must!  [Reads  again]  "Once  his  father  offered  to  marry  me. 
Yet  he  left  me  to  marry  for  money  and  advancement.  Such 


278  THE  NEW  SYSTEM     ACTV.    sc.  TV 

things  are  in  the  blood,  my  girl.  You  had  better  look  out 
for  the  son."  [Speaking]  Perhaps  you  would  like  to  read  the 
rest? 

Rns.  No. 

FREDERICK.  "Such  things  are  in  the  blood." — To  my 
misfortune,  I  have  been  made  aware  of  it.  But,  fortunately 
enough,  what  I  have  got  from  my  mother  is  stronger  still — 
I  am  going  to  follow  Anna.  I  don't  care  for  a  career  at 
such  a  price.  It  might  so  easily  end  in  another  fallacious 
system. 

Rus.  My  boy! 

FREDERICK.  I  know  that — until  a  short  while  ago — I 
should  rather  have  given  my  life  than  let  myself  be  forced 
into  saying  such  things  as  these.  Now  I  must  leave — and 
one  more  reason  is  that  I  could  never  bear  to  say  them  again. 

Rns.  Frederick ! 

FREDERICK.  Don't  be  cruel  to  mamma! 

Rns.  [In  a  whisper]  What  are  you  saying? 

FREDERICK.  Don't  be  cruel  to  mamma! — You  have  begun 
by  deceiving  her. 

Rns.  But,  Frederick! 

FREDERICK.  She  doesn't  know.  Mamma  asks  for  so 
little.  She  thinks  well  of  everybody. — Oh,  what  might  not 
have  become  of  her!  In  her  innocence,  in  her  very  lack  of  de- 
velopment, she  is  sweeter  than  anything  else  I  can  think  of. 
[Rns  shows  emotion]  Be  good  to  mamma!  Please  be  good  to 
her! 

Rns  goes  over  to  FREDERICK  and  they  fall  into  each 
other's  arms. 

FREDERICK.  Thank  you  for  what  you  have  done  for  me! 
To  me  you  have  been  good. 

Rus.  I  meant  to  do  the  best  I  could.  [Deeply  moved. 


ACTV.     sc.v      THE   NEW  SYSTEM  279 

FREDERICK.  I  know  it. — But  do  it  some  other  way  here- 
after—  Why  don't  you  begin  with  Karen? 

Rns.  I  will. 

They  draw  away  a  little  but  continue  to  hold  each  other's 
hands. 

FREDERICK.  Thank  you! — I  think  the  memory  of  this 
moment  will  bring  me  home  again  some  time.  [They  embrace 
again.  Silence.  When  tJiey  have  torn  themselves  away,  FRED- 
ERICK says]  Now,  I  must  first  of  all  try  to  make  something 
out  of  myself. 

RIIS.  You  are  not  leaving  at  once? 

FREDERICK.  Not  at  once.     Papa,  may  I  bring  Karen  to 

you? 

Rns.  Yes. 

FREDERICK  opens  tlie  door  for  KAREN  and  goes  out  him- 
self. 

FIFTH    SCENE 
Rns.    KAREN. 

KAREN.  Don't  get  angry  with  me,  papa — I  wanted  only 
to  ask  you — May  I  go  away  also? 

Rns.  You,  too,  Karen? 

KAREN.  I  have  applied  for  a  position  as  a  teacher — and 
I  think  I'll  get  it. 

RIIS.  You  teach?     Why? 

KAREN.  Because  it  is  the  only  thing  I  can  do — if  I  can  do 
that. 

RIIS.  But  are  you  not  just  as  free  here?  Don't  we  let  you 
do  what  you  will? 

KAREN.  I  do  nothing  at  all —    And  then [She  hesitates. 

RIIS.  And  then? 

KAREN.  I  need  the  work. 


280  THE   NEW  SYSTEM     ACTV.    sc.  vi 

Rus.  But  you  can  work  at  home. 

KAREN.  Yes — but —  [Hesitates  again. 

Rus.  What  is  it,  Karen? 

KAREN.  I  cannot  stay  here.  [She  bursts  into  tears. 

Rus.  Things  will  change.     I  promise  you  they  shall. 

KAREN.  Papa,  let  me  go! 

Rus.  Do  as  you  will.  [He  sits  down]  So  you  are  leaving  me 
also. 

KAREN.  [Kneeling  beside  him]  Nobody  is  leaving  you. 
We  are  only  leaving  what  is  wrong. 

Rus.  Oh,  Karen! 

KAREN.  I  can  do  a  great  deal  for  your  sake.  Mamma  has 
taught  me. 

Rus.  Are  you  then  also  to  be  unhappy  for  my  sake? 

KAREN.  As  the  years  go  by,  we  shall  see. 

Rus.  As  the  years  go  by —  Then  there  will  not  be  much 
left  of  me. 

KAREN.  As  the  years  go  by,  you  will,  perhaps,  see  things 
differently. 

Rus.  I  understand.     You  don't  believe  in  me. 

KAREN.  Don't  get  angry,  papa — but  do  you  believe  in 
yourself? 

Rus.  [Rising]  Yes!  [KAREN  gets  up;  Rus  sits  down  again] 
Leave  me  now,  Karen! 
KAREN  goes  out. 

SIXTH    SCENE 

MRS.  Rus.  [Puts  in  her  head  through  the  door  on  the  right] 
Are  you  alone  now? 

RIIS.  Yes,  my  dear. 

MRS.  Rus.  [Comes  into  the  room]  Don't  let  that  dishearten 
you,  my  own  dear!  It's  what  happens  to  every  great  and 


ACTV.     sc.n     THE   NEW  SYSTEM  281 

noble  man.  It  means  that  his  faith  has  to  be  tried,  don't  you 
know — and  his  love  also. 

Rus.  Oh,  no,  no,  no,  no! 

MRS.  Rus.  Is  it  as  bad  as  that?  If  I  only  knew  how  to 
help  you!  But  a  wife  is  merely  what  the  man  has  made  out 
of  her,  and  sometimes  that  isn't  quite  enough. 

Rns.  You  say  such  things  at  times — well,  don't  let  us  talk 
of  it  now. — Oh,  Lord! — Yes,  yes,  yes! 

MRS.  Rus.  It's  such  a  queer  time,  too.  Nothing  remains 
secure  any  longer. 

Rus.  It's  a  time  of  doubt,  of  transition. 

MRS.  Rus.  But  isn't  every  time  one  of  transition?  For 
every  time  has  its  own  system 

Rus.  [Jumps  up]  Don't  mention  the  word! — I  beg  your 
pardon!  Please  be  patient  with  me.  Things  will  grow  bet- 
ter, I  assure  you. 

MRS.  Rus.  Dear,  you  mustn't  think  that  I  don't  under- 
stand you. 

Rus.  No,  you,  for  one,  believe!     You  are  the  only  one. 

MRS.  Rus.  And  how  about  yourself,  dear?  As  long  as  you 
feel  sure  of  yourself,  nobody  else  can  touch  you.  That's  a 
true  word. — What  is  it,  dearest? 

Rus.  I  want  to  go — I  should  like — but  I  don't  know  where? 
There  seems  to  be  no  place  for  me  to  go  to. 

MRS.  Rus.  How  about  the  shore?  The  sea?  There  is  a 
sense  of  infinity  about  the  sea.  Don't  you  think  so,  dear? 

Rus.  Yes — yes,  of  course.  Well,  let  us  go  down  to  the 
shore,  then. 

MRS.  Rus.  Yes,  I  am  going  with  you.       [Takes  his  arm. 

Rus.  Well,  then — we're  going  then! 

Curtain. 


BRANDER  MATTHEWS 
DRAMATIC  MUSEUM 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY,  LOS  ANGELES 

COLLEGE  LIBRARY 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


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